


Fantasies

by storytellerof221b



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Blindfolds, Bondage, Dom/sub, Gags, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Legwork, M/M, Pain, Sexting, Sextoys, Webcam/Video Chat Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-07-27 11:00:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 42,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20044888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storytellerof221b/pseuds/storytellerof221b
Summary: Sherlock is working as a dom for hire. His business works out just fine.John is bored to death and just needs something. Anything. So he visits Sherlock'soffice.And then he stayed.





	1. Chapter 1

„What do you want?“ The blindfolded man's head moved as if he tried to listen more intently. Then he slowly shook his head.  
„I don't know. I am not sure.“ A voice barely able to hear answered.  
“Then why did you come to me in the first place? And answer me honestly. I know when you are lying to me.” It took him several minutes to think about it and he wasn't rushed or pushed. Then his body seemed to straighten up a bit and he licked his lip.  
“I need distraction. Nothing happens to me.” A soft humming tone was made.  
“You crave danger. You are a soldier. You just came out of battle. I see ...” He circled the smaller man and had a closer look. He hadn't done anything yet but to blindfold him. He didn't comment his deductions and he hadn't expected it. He came to a halt close behind him and whispered into his ear.  
“You were honest which was a good thing. I will distract you. If you need me to stop, your safe-word is “Helmand”. If you are not able to speak at a certain point, which might very positively be happening, you cross your index and middle finger of your left hand. You will address me with proper respect.” He hadn't moved his body a bit. Only his tongue was poking out moving over his lips.  
The smaller man was shivering lightly but didn't turn away. Small beads of sweat were on his temple and forehead but he didn't move.  
“What is your safe-word?” He suddenly barked making the smaller man jerk just a bit.  
“Helmand, Sir!” The tall, gangly man smiled. Parade ground sound worked, obviously.  
“Show me what you do when you can't speak!” He did that, too.  
“Very good!” He praised and saw him relax a bit. He gave him a once-over again and then nodded more to himself.  
“Shall we get started?” He saw the smaller man inhale and then he just curtly nodded.  
“Yes, Sir. Please.” Now a wide grin was on the taller man's face.  
“Let's get then.”

***

He stepped up close to the smaller man and hooked his fingers under the hem of his fairly ugly jumper. He pulled and moved it up over his head. Afterwards he got rid of his tee and vest, too. He carelessly dropped it on the floor.  
“Shoes and socks, please.” He toed them both off and the taller man looked interested. Obviously, a habit after a long day of work. Goose skin showed on his body by now.  
“Hands go on your nape.” He obeyed instantly and his muscles worked. It was some sight, the taller man thought. Mind the scars though. He was tanned and had no body hair whatsoever.  
He once moved his palm over his chest and stomach making him twitch.  
“Any no go's?” He saw him swallow and lick his lips again. It was sort of cute.  
“Blood, urine, faecal. Sir.”  
“Did I just register a tiny resistance? Hm?” He took one of his nipples between his fingers and slowly rubbed over it.  
“No, Sir. Not at all, Sir. I am sorry, Sir.” He twisted only lightly and made him yelp quietly.  
“Very well.” He opened the buckle of his black leather belt and pulled it slowly through the loops. He saw his denims move down over his hips. He must have lost weight and they hung low on his body. It was utterly sexy though. He made a step back and had a closer look on his crotch. He smiled when he saw the bulge. He didn't touch him though.  
Instead he grabbed a shorter piece of rope and moved behind him. He took one wrist and pulled his arm down. His lips parted a bit but he showed no resistance. Then he took his second wrist down and crossed them on his lower back. He wound the rope around them and tied his wrists. Tight.  
He had a closer look at the nasty exit wound of a gunshot. Interesting.  
“Kneel!” He had seen him limp into his studio. He knew his leg must hurt, but he also knew the limp was psychosomatic. Even though the smaller man didn't know it.  
When he was on his knees, he placed a palm on his head. No pressure at all, more a hovering over his hair, fingernails on his scalp. He asked:  
“Have you ever sucked cock?” He lowered his head as if ashamed about it.  
“No, Sir.”  
“Great, I haven't had a novice for a very long time!” He opened his leather trousers and pulled his cock out. It was pale, long and thick. And already very hard. A small bead of pre-cum showed on the tip and he smeared it on his face.  
“Beg for my cock in your face! Let's hear you become my proper cock-slut!” His head came back up and he straightened his body. He even cleared his throat.  
“Please, Sir, I need to suck your cock! Please! Let me suck you off. Please!” He gently palmed his face and then smacked him just a little bit.  
“And now with a bit more enthusiasm, slut!” He saw him swallow and a shade of red appeared on his face.  
“Please! Sir, I mean it! Please, I need it!” Another smack, this time with his cock.  
“What do you need? Be more precise and use full sentences! I want to hear you!” Now he shouted.  
“I need your cock in my mouth, Sir! Please! Please fuck my face! Please, Sir!” He had become loud, too.  
“Much better. Well, then. Have a taste!” He made a step forward and only moved his head between his lips. He felt him tense and open up wider. His hot breath moved over his tender flesh.  
“Just remember what all the women performed on you.” He roughly whispered watching him swallow. It took him some more seconds but then he started to use his tongue over his head. He licked over it and pressed down on his slit. Then he closed his mouth and sucked.  
The taller man widened his stance. This was insanely hot. Much hotter than he had expected. His cock was throbbing. He didn't want to come too soon and he gently carded through his hair.  
“Very good, slut. Now take a bit more. Go on!” The smaller man breathed around his prick and then started to suck him into his mouth. He let his tongue swirl around his still growing cock.  
The taller man carded all his ten fingers through the fine blond hair and scratched over his shaved neck. The man on his knees relaxed and hummed around him which made him moan in return.  
He tightened his grip and tilted his head.  
“Breath through your nose. Try not to gag or even throw up. You won't like the punishment.” He let him adjust for several seconds and then pushed down his throat until he was buried to the hilt.  
The smaller man tensed in his grip and his nostrils were wide. But he didn't gag. Instead he swallowed several times around him.  
“I am impressed, slut. Such a talented novice. A natural, really.” He was panting and started to push into him. And he took it all.  
The tall man came deep down his throat and he swallowed everything down. He stared down on the blond who still knelt in front of him on the floor. His mouth stood open and some cum dribbled over his lips. He stared down and waited. And there it was. His tongue poked out and licked it off. And then he belched. Loudly. He blushed; he really did.  
The tall man couldn't but laugh. He knew he shouldn't. It would undermine his authority somehow but he didn't care. He gently caressed his cheek.  
“Well done, you. I am proud. Are you up for some more? There is still time.”  
“Yes, Sir. Please proceed, Sir. Thank you, Sir.”  
“You sound a bit croaky. Do you hurt?” But he shook his head.  
“No, Sir, I am fine.” He stuffed his cock into his trousers and pulled him back up.  
“Have you ever had something in your arse?” He slowly shook his head.  
“No, Sir, I haven't.” He slowly raised his eyebrows.  
“Your prostate has never been stimulated?” He shook his head again.  
“No, Sir.” He again stroked over his chest and nipples making him breath harder.  
“Would you like me to show you the pleasure?”  
“Yes, Sir. Please, Sir, show me.” At once he started to open his trousers and pulled them down and over his hips. He had him step out of it.  
“Oh, you greedy, little bitch. You have been leaking into your boxers.” He made him blush again.  
“I am sorry, Sir.” He pulled the boxers down, too. He admired the naked man. He was almost completely tanned and was trimmed nicely. Also, his cock was nice, too. He hoped one day he could ride him. He somehow was convinced he would be coming back, that he would want to see him again. At least he really hoped it.  
“You are not going to come for a long time, slut. I am going to tease you, maybe others may call it torture. I will pleasure you like you have never been before, trust me. But I won't let you come. And do you know why?”  
“Because I haven't earned it yet, Sir.”  
“Very good! Now step up on this, please.” He held his arm and moved a footstool in front of him. He climbed up and the tall man got some thin leather strips which he wound around his prick in quite a fancy way. He also pulled one between his testicles parting them in the middle.  
The smaller man was panting by now and swayed on the spot. The tall man wiped his forefinger over the bead of cum and placed it on his lip.  
“Taste yourself, slut.” He sucked his finger and licked it. He was sweating by now.  
He didn't tell him to stop and so he didn't. His tongue was pressed down and a second finger joined the first. He licked them and sucked them. When he took the third, he was sweating and panting. He pulled his fingers out and looked at him. He was so hot. He liked what he saw. He wanted to play some more.  
He started to tease his right nipple by pulling it, twisting it and tweaking it. When it stood out, he lowered his head and kissed it, licked around it, and then held it between his teeth. The smaller man's breath hitched but they didn't move.  
But when he started to suck harder, he heard a low growl coming from deep down his body. He pressed forward and the taller man stopped his actions.  
“Stop that at once! No topping from the bottom! Understood?”  
“Yes, Sir. I am sorry, Sir!” He was panting and the words came out rather throatily.  
“Who is on top?” He once bit down making him twitch.  
“You are, Sir!” He nodded.  
“Very good, slut. Let's try again.” He continued with the teasing and just knew he would move again even though he tried very hard to stay still. He even managed for a long time but when he moved to his left and still rubbed over his right with his fingers he couldn't hold back anymore.  
The moment he moved forward, he already started to beg.  
“Please, Sir, I am sorry. I couldn't help it. I am weak, Sir. Please, do continue. Please, Sir!” He let go of him at once. Instead he placed a palm on his hip.  
“Well, well. No discipline, none at all.” He sighed.  
“I think I will have to punish you. Stand still up there. I will only move a few steps to the side.” His head followed his moves when he walked over to a drawer and extracted nipple clamps connected by a chain. He clinked them together for him to hear. He saw him tense but he didn't stop him when he screwed them tight around his nipples. Instead he only moaned and swayed some more.  
“Well, this doesn't register as punishment, I am afraid. It seems you like this a bit too much.” He once pulled at the chain rather sharply making him groan.  
“Come down there and get back on your knees, slut.” He dropped down at once making the chain swing. He hissed quietly. Now the taller man tied his thighs to his calves and shoved his knees apart. He was rock hard and his leaking cock was a dark angry red.  
He picked up his boxers and wiped over his cock to clean all the cum off which had been leaking copiously. Then he moved behind him and forced his mouth open. He watched his fingers when he stuffed his soiled boxers into him but he didn't safe-word. He shoved a bit-gag between his teeth and buckled it tight behind his head.  
“Only now I will start to punish you. I am going to prod you everywhere on your body. Consider it a training session. Try not to move away. I will take the blindfold off now.” He let him adjust to the light again and they locked eyes for a second. His pupils were dilated and the bright blue was barely seen. His eyes fell on the prod and widened a bit.  
He started on his thighs and he screamed behind the gag. But he really tried to stay upright and not to move. He teased him for several minutes and only stopped when the noises became weaker. He loosened the ropes around his thighs and made him sway over to the bed.  
“Get up on the bed and kneel chest down. Spread your knees. Behave!” The smaller man trembled and felt his sore nipples but still he didn't safe-word.  
He knew he was presenting himself, his arse, but he didn't care. He felt high, like riding on the clouds. He relaxed.  
Then he felt his hand on his cheeks. He kneaded them hard making him moan again but he didn't move. When the man started to hit him flat handed, his cock once and again moved against his thigh. He tightly closed his eyes and dug his teeth into the bit. His cheeks felt hot and when they were massaged hard, he deeply groaned into the soiled boxers.  
“This will be a bit cold.” Some fluid, lube, dribbled down his rim from beneath the perineum. He felt filthy. He felt great. He spread his cheeks again and whispered:  
“I can see how tight you are. This will take time. It may hurt. But at the end it will be good.” Then his finger started to move over his muscle. The smaller man tensed but relaxed soon again when he felt no pain. One hand was stroking up and down his back soothingly. The finger circled his hole making him relax and loose his tension.  
He could hear him slick his hands very thorough. He felt his finger press down and it burnt when he tried to invade.  
“Just relax. It will be worth it, trust me.” He muffled a reply and settled down again. He breathed through it when he was finally breached by his finger. Suddenly it slipped right in.  
It felt alien at first. But not bad. Not bad. He felt him stroke his flesh. Flesh which had never been touched before, not even in a medical context. And then he pressed down on his prostate.  
The feeling was intense and he screamed behind his gag. His body shot up and shook rather wildly. He was pressed down and a soothing voice calmed him down.  
Then he just kept moving his finger inside and out again. All the time he rubbed his prostate. He was a writhing, crying mess on the bed. He thought he might combust, explode, implode any second now.  
Suddenly he realised there were two fingers now spreading him, fucking him open. He so wanted to fuck back but he was afraid the man would stop doing these things to him if he wouldn't obey his orders.  
The taller man looked down and admired the smaller man. He had adapted well. He liked this. Perhaps he liked this a bit too much.  
He had to admit he liked this, too, that he liked him a bit too much. The smaller man didn't know, but this wasn't his usual business. He normally wouldn't touch new clients like this in the first session. He wouldn't even punish them first round. But this had been too good to be true. He wanted him badly. And he wanted to make it good for him so he would come back. See him again. Be with him again.  
He found him wide open and pulled out. He made begging sounds but didn't come up. Quickly the taller man slicked up the prostate vibrator and carefully pushed it inside him. He held perfectly still but when he set it to a middle pace, he had to hold him down. Tears were flowing rapidly and he ripped off one clamp by getting his knee on the chain. He screamed painfully and his whole body shook and trembled.  
The taller man found it was enough now. He pulled him up and against his own chest which was still clad in a tight black shirt. He felt the heat radiate off the smaller body. He was slick with sweat but he didn't mind. Not at all.  
He carefully took off the second nipple clamp. He knew the pain got worse when the blood flow started again. He distracted him by removing the straps around his testicles, fondling them in the process.  
Snot dripped out of his nose and down his chin. He sobbed and his eyes were shut tightly. Now he took off the bit gag and pulled out the boxers. They were soaking wet and he threw them off the bed.  
The smaller man coughed drily and he reached out for the water. He held the bottle to his lips and he greedily drank. Then he sighed and sunk back against his chest again. He raggedly breathed and his body constantly shook due to the stimulation on his prostate.  
“There you go. You have been fantastic, bloody brilliant. I will remove the straps around your cock now. Please try not to come right away, please.” The smaller man just weakly nodded. He wasn't sure if he even had the strength left to come.  
But at first, he took off the rope around his wrists. His arms just fell to the side. When he felt his fingers around his prick, he fisted the sheets and deep sounds erupted out of him. Very wanton but he didn't mind. Not at all.  
He felt the taller man kneel behind him. He had one arm around his waist. He was held tight and he was still on his knees. He also was very naked and very hard. The second hand sneaked down his behind and increased the speed.  
He roughly shouted and clutched his arm. He bend down and felt electricity drive down his spine, his balls pulled up and then he screamed until he blacked out.  
The taller man knew he had been bruised but he didn't mind. Not at all. He carefully lowered down his body on his side and retrieved the stimulator. He carefully checked his anus but it looked fine. The skin around his wrists was a bit chafed but not too bad. The same with his testicles and prick.  
He got up and brought some warm water and heated towels. He slowly cleaned his body which woke him up again. Their eyes met and a warm smile was on his face. He tried to get up but the tall man at once held him down.  
“No, don't. You are exhausted. Stay a bit.” He bit his lower lip.  
“Only if you like?” The blond was clearly surprised but settled down at once.  
The tall man threw away the towel and sat on the bed.  
“Would you like to have a drink? Or a snack?” He carefully reached out and touched his hair again. Now a lopsided grin showed on the smaller man's face when he said:  
“Will that be charged extra?” He pulled his hair once but grinned, too.  
“No, this is special service. Only for you because I would like to see you again. Privately.”  
“What?” Now he looked surprised. The taller man looked a bit disappointed. They looked at each other for several seconds but then the blond smiled up at him.  
“Just a bottle of water, please. And your name if you don't mind.” He smiled and turned around opening a little fridge in the corner of the room. He got a bottle of water and opened it for him. He came back and sat by his side again.  
“I will tell you my name the next time.” The smaller man drank half of the bottle and looked at him.  
“Agreed.”  
“So, you found what you wanted?”  
“I found much needed distraction at first. Then I found you. You made me feel things. I never thought I could do the sex with a man. This was the best sex ever. I want to thank you, really thank you.” He took his hand and kissed his knuckles.  
The taller man was clearly surprised by this action and didn't move at all. This was intimate in a way unknown to him.  
He let go of his hand and tried to get up. But at once he fell back.  
“Careful, don't exaggerate. Tell me how you feel.”  
“Great. Dizzy. Cloudy. High. Bruised. Sore. Great.”  
“Sounds good to me. What would you like to do? Be honest.”  
“Yes, Sir.” He smiled but then he looked thoughtful.  
“Actually, I would like to hold you and fall asleep.”  
“That's perfectly fine. Lay down and I will be right with you.” He crawled back on the bed and grabbed the duvet. When the taller man came out of the bath, he only wore his birthday suit. The blond looked at him in awe. He was beautiful.  
He came under the duvet with him and held him. He placed his palm against his marble looking chest. He fell asleep listening to his heartbeat.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John had stayed the night and only when being at home, he reflects the last night and morning.
> 
> He gets a call from DI Lestrade. Sometimes John was asked to have a look at certain corpses to give his opinion. The lastest victim was grossly mutilated and John takes the file home to have a longer look at everything.
> 
> Sherlock comes to visit and John has to find out there is a connection between the lastest crime and his new friend, associate, lover?

Fortunately, he was off duty the next day. He still felt high when he left the studio. They agreed to meet again the next weekend but in John's flat. He had given him the address gladly and looked forward to seeing him again.  
When being home again, he prepared a bath. It always relaxed him. He hadn't been able to do this in the desert, so he indulged in this a lot since he came home. Invalided. Crippled.  
He lifted up his leg and looked at it. He hadn't been limping after the session. He hadn't been limping on his way home. It was weird. Did he use witchcraft on him? Sort of, he thought and shifted on his backside.  
He checked his body in the mirror and saw the bruises. He poked them and they still hurt a bit. It was a good pain. Made him that want a pervert? He had no idea and he didn't care. He had liked it, liked what the tall beauty did to him, made him do. It had been consensual and that's why it had been good.  
He almost hopped back into his living-room when his mobile rang. He picked it up still being naked.  
“Greg, what's up?” The caller was DI Greg Lestrade. He worked for NSY in the homicide division and sometimes he asked John to have a look at corpses who had been tortured or showed other weird signs. Since he had been an army doctor, he knew about many things unknown to others.  
“We've got a corpse, almost beyond recognition. Tortured. The wounds look scary. Could you please come over? I know this is your day off but I would appreciate it.”  
“Where are you?”  
“Bart's morgue.” John sighed.  
“I'll be over in an hour. See you, Greg.”  
“Thanks, John. See you.” He ended the call and got dressed. At least he was wide awake by now and clean again. He dressed into a wide shirt which covered his bruises nicely. He donned his jacket and left his flat. He rode the tube to the hospital and walked directly into the basement. He could hear Greg already.  
“Jesus, fuck, Anderson. Get out here and throw up elsewhere. What kind of forensic are you anyway? Fuck!” Then John got shoved out of the way by a still puking Anderson. A little evil grin was on John's face when watching him disappear.  
After he had a closer look at the corpse, he was very pale, too. He had seen a lot of bad things but this was special. He cleared his throat.  
“Has anything been changed?” Greg shook his head.  
“No, he has just been brought here.” John nodded and circled the stretcher. Then he donned gloves and a mask and had a closer look.  
What he saw was a muscled man in his mid-thirties. His knees were chafed bloody. His arms were broken. His testicles were cut to pieces and hung in stripes. A crushed bottle stuck in his arse from where the blood still dropped. His penis was cut off and stuck in his mouth, head facing outwards. He also had a black leather collar on. His ears had been cut off halfway. The same with the tip of his nose. When John had a closer look into his foggy eyes, he saw his pupils had been punctured. There was dried cum and blood all over him.  
His eyes roamed down his chest and he saw that his nipples had been cut off, too. His body was bruised badly.  
John had to sit down. He got off the mask and gloves and looked at Greg.  
“I never have seen something like that, John. Never.”  
“Me neither. I have seen tortured corpses, soldiers bombed off and away, but nothing like this.”  
“Any idea?” John slowly shook his head.  
“No, not really. Let me think about it though. I will give you a call.”  
“Thanks, John. I appreciate your help.” He handed him a copy of the file in a brown folder. John took it.  
“I will look at everything at home again. We have to find the murderer. This is insane.”

***

John counted the days, hours and minutes until he could meet his beauty again. He spent hours cleaning his flat. He went shopping. He bought wine and whiskey. He showered twice. He picked some music. He changed his clothes twice and finally decided on black denims, loafers and a dark red shirt.  
He had placed the folder far away on a little coffee table in his living-room after he had looked at it again. Now he wanted to look at something nice.  
When his doorbell rang, he almost choked. He moved quickly to the door and opened it. And there he was. Immaculately dressed, posh looking, dress trousers and shoes, a tight purple shirt with the first two buttons opened and a fantastic coat.  
They stood and gaped at each other.  
“Won't you ask me inside?” John woke and blushed.  
“Please, do come in. I am sorry, I was ...” He moved over the threshold.  
“You were …?” John closed the door and leant weakly against it.  
“I was in awe.” He came up close and palmed his face.  
“I like your face in a state like this.” Then he pulled a bottle out of his coat and placed it on the table. He shed his coat and just dropped it on the floor.  
He found John expectantly look up at him. He tilted his head.  
“What is it?” John licked over his lip again making the taller man moan inwardly.  
“I would like to know your name, please.”  
“You think you have earned that privilege by now?” He smiled thinly and John returned it.  
“What do I have to do?”  
“What would you like to do?”  
“I think I would like anything you will do to me.”  
“That is such a beautiful answer, John. I like it!” He rubbed his hands together.  
“You didn't bring anything?” The taller man grinned.  
“You clearly underestimate the depths of my coat and the ordinary household stuff. Don't worry.”  
“I don't.” They looked at each other again and suddenly the taller man's face changed into something feral. John swallowed.  
“Do you consent?” John nodded.  
“Yes, I do.”  
“I will start then. Let's begin to play, shall we?”  
“Please ...” It was more a sound coming out of John than a word. The taller man was clearly surprised but then smiled down at him. He just nodded.  
“Get naked. Don't forget the proper address. Slut.” The last was only whispered.  
“Yes, Sir. I won't, Sir. Thank you, Sir.” Then he quickly undressed himself. When he was naked, he trembled being all excited, he was expecting something, anything. So was his cock. The taller man stepped closer.  
“You are still so greedy, bitch. But I brought something to make you behave. On your knees, slut.” John at once dropped down. The taller man reached into his coat pocket and retrieved a collar which he buckled around John's neck. It had a ring in the front and felt smooth on the inside. The next thing he pulled out of his coat was a pair of handcuffs. He tightened them around John's wrists.  
He pulled him up by the ring on his collar. Then he lowered his head and stuck his tongue into his ear, licked his neck and bit his shoulder, his good shoulder.  
“I wanted to do this when I saw you. I will do it now. You know how to safe-word, don't you?”  
“Yes, Sir.” He nodded.  
“Very well. Stay.” John stayed but watched when he opened the door again and picked up a duffle he hadn't seen before. That man was impossible. He dropped it in front of him and started to rummage through it. Finally, he got a rather huge ball-gag and shoved it behind his teeth. His jaw was strained and it was buckled tight. John moaned deeply and soon enough started to drool.  
He saw him getting some rope. He knotted it together and slung it over a door which he closed. He made him get up and stand with his back to the door. He changed the cuffs to the front and pulled his hands up over his head. Next he brought a spreader bar and his legs were wide apart.  
He approached him and moved his hands all over his body. His long fingers were around his cock and lightly pressed and stroked him to full hardness. John cross-eyed and his breath hitched. Then he slipped something over it and a weight dangled from his cock pulling it down. The feeling was intense. A constant pull downwards feeling like his spine was extended, strained. It was good.  
Next his nipples got teased and clamped again. Only today he hooked the chain up to the ring on the collar creating another constant strain. He also blindfolded him again admiring his work. He pushed the weights hanging down from his cock and made them swing around. The smaller man, John, stilled and his breath hitched.  
His long fingers fondled his balls, squeezed, pulled and pressed until he was choking. Spit ran down his chin and so did snot out of his nose.  
He stepped up close and had his fingers slicked. He massaged his hole and poked his finger inside. It worked better this time because John was expecting pleasure and relaxed faster.  
“Oh, you are so good for me. You are my slut. You do what I want you to do. Right now, I want you to suffer a bit more. I want to watch you writhe and shiver before me.” John moaned when listening to him and his body trembled. He rubbed and pressed his prostate several times and stopped again when he had opened him up properly.  
He slicked up a rather big plug and carefully moved it into him. He took away the weight and untied him.  
“If you aren't getting too loud, I will take away the gag. Think you can manage?” John nodded and the ball-gag was taken away. His jaw cracked when he closed his mouth. A glass was held to his lips and he drank.  
“Thank you, Sir.” The taller man could see his flanks tremble.  
“There you go. You were so good for me, so good. I am very proud.” He praised him and saw his body react to this. He needed this. He got him off the door and held him by his arm.  
“Now you will suck me off. You know what to do, don't you?”  
“Yes, Sir, I know what to do.” But still he hesitated. The taller man watched his twitching hands and fingers.  
“Oh, I see. You are a fine slut. You need to be restrained, don't you? Well, you know how to achieve that, don't you?” He roughly whispered that making John nod.  
“Please, Sir, would you mind forcing my hands back? Please tie my hands as you wish, Sir.” The taller man growled and got a longer piece of rope out of his duffle. He wound the rope around his upper body so his hands touched his elbows. The rope criss-crossed over his chest. Some of the rope led from his bound arms up to his collar. He could almost watch the smaller man relax.  
“On your knees now, slut.” He fell down at once and was slapped by his cock. He blushed a rosy shade and the taller man liked that. He stepped closer and held his head forcing his cock between his lips. No foreplay today, he just shoved it down his throat.  
At once John behaved as being told the first time. He breathed through his nose and swallowed around him. Since his nose was a bit clotted it was harder than before and he almost didn't make it. But only almost.  
His head was held in position and he got face-fucked very thorough. The taller man felt his balls pull up and shot down his throat. His fingers fisted the fine blond hair and he roughly shouted when he came. John took it all and when he told him to clean him, he did that, too.  
“I am very proud of you, really, very proud.” He praised and looked down. He needed to see it again and there it came. His tongue poked out and licked over his lips. John had no idea what he did to him by doing this all the time.  
He pulled him up again standing behind him. His fingers and hands moved over his body and he whispered into his ear.  
“Today I want to give you something special. But to do it I need to clean you and I am not talking about a shower.” His voice was dark and smooth and he could see goose-skin on John's body.  
“Will you let me give you an enema?” John just nodded his consent and the taller man hummed. He walked him into the bathroom and made him kneel chest down on the rug in front of the tub. He slicked his hole and the tube. He carefully pulled out the plug and John clenched around nothing. His cheeks got smacked several times and he deeply moaned.  
“You are a fine pain-slut, I had no idea. You like what I do to you, I know you do. Have you ever had an enema?”  
“Yes, Sir. Before I went abroad, I have been examined very thorough.”  
“Was it good?” John shook his head.  
“No, Sir, it wasn't.” His cheek got kissed.  
“I will make it good for you. Do you trust me?” There was no hesitation at all when John replied.  
“Yes, I do trust you, Sir. I do.” Another smack landed on his arse.  
“Very good, bitch. I will start now by inserting the tube.” John felt it move inside him. There was no pleasure at all. But he would take it because he was promised something.  
“Now I will let it pour into you. I have it warmed for you.” John felt it dribble into him and slowly it filled him up. And it was warm. His hands massaged his belly when the bag was empty. Then the cramps started. He tried to get up but was held down.  
“No, John. Stay down like a good slut. This will be over in a few. Trust me.” John moaned into the rug and endured the pain until it was over. He relaxed on the rug and only lightly shivered. He concentrated on his hand and his moves. The fluid bubbled inside him and he became a bit dreamy. He didn't even notice being untied and everything. His eyes were closed.  
He woke when he got smacked on his arse again.  
“Back to me now, slut! Wake up! Don't dream away!” John moaned and moved his head over the rug.  
“I am sorry, Sir. I didn't mean to. Please don't stop, Sir.” Another smack landed.  
“Oh, I won't, don't you worry.” Some more smacks landed and he just moaned into the rug.  
“Thank you, Sir, thank you.” The taller man looked down and smiled.  
“Well, I want you to get up now and void. It should take you at least a quarter of an hour to do so. Please shower afterwards. I will check if you have done everything properly. Get up!” Carefully John got up and stood. He swayed on the spot and clenched his hole. The urge to let go was enormous and he grit his teeth. The taller man just left the bath taking the empty bag with him.

***

While John was in the bath, he took the freedom to light a fire and opened the bottle of wine. He had a look into the kitchen cupboard and found nice glasses. He poured the wine and brought everything over to the table in front of the sofa.  
He sighed. He desperately wanted to smoke but he didn't. This was a non-smoker's household and he held back. He was a dom and liked to rule but he wasn't impolite. He listened to the noises coming from inside the bath. The shower had stopped and he could hear him walk around. He would be out in a few.  
His eyes scanned the things on the table. Several medical journals. Interesting. A folder which looked very official. He wasn't able to hesitate and had a closer look. He flipped it open and his eyes widened. He scanned the pictures from the crime scene and was so concentrated, he didn't hear John came back out.  
He stood there looking at him looking at the file. Then he turned around and dressed into sweatpants and a tee. He knew their game was over for now. Only when he sat down beside him, the taller man seemed to wake. Slowly he turned his head and John could see the tears in his eyes.  
“Who are you?” He croaked out. John pulled his legs under and seriously replied.  
“Dr John Watson, former army-doctor. And you?” His eyes didn't leave his. His hands shook.  
“What are you doing? What is this?” He shrugged.  
“Sometimes the police asks me to help them, look at victims.”  
“I see.” He then closed the folder and stood.  
“I am sorry I spoiled this, John. I really am.” He slowly moved away from him making John jump up.  
“What do you think you are doing? You can't just go away now and leave me!”  
“I have to take care of him.” They both looked at the folder again.  
“You knew him?” John asked now looking back at the taller man. He just nodded. John carefully reached out and touched him. He took his hand and gently pulled him back on the sofa to sit down with him again.  
Suddenly he just slumped like a ragged doll. Tears fell from his eyes and he started to cry. His body shook and he sobbed. John just kept holding his hand for a second but then slung his arms around him, comforting him. He was held, too. He sobbed on his tee for quite some time and when he was done, he looked at John out of red rimmed eyes. He was handed a box with Kleenex. He blew his nose and reached out for the wine. He sipped a bit and then said:  
“I am sure you want answers, don't you?”  
“Please, talk to me.” He sighed and sipped some more. Then he straightened a bit and started.  
“His name is, was, Dennis Raider. He was a fellow dom. I knew him for years. We started together, experienced together, shared a studio together at the beginning. He only was with women and I only was with men. Never with him though. I liked him a lot. He was like a brother for me, family. I need to know what happened to him and why, John. I need to know it.”  
“You have to talk to the police.” He nodded.  
“Yes, I know. And I will.” Now John looked up at him.  
“Would you like to smoke and maybe a drink?” A small smile was on his face.  
“You don't smoke, John.”  
“I can open a window for you. I want you to come down again. Firstly, I don't want you to leave now. Alone.”  
“OK, how do you know?” John tipped his nose and made him smile again. Then he got up and poured him a whiskey. He even found an old ashtray and opened the window for him.  
“Here we go. Please relax again. I will do anything to help.” He moved back on the sofa and closed the folder. He watched him smoke and drink. He placed the ashtray on the windowsill and brought his drink over. He looked at John.  
“I don't want to leave you. I would like to stay. Would you still like me to stay?” John brightly smiled and his blue eyes shone.  
“Stay as long as you want. It's fine.” The taller man took his hand and just held it. It felt utterly strange considering the things they had done before. Then John looked at his groin and saw he was hard.  
“Never mind, John.”  
“What did you want to do to me?” A fine smile was on his face and he looked up again.  
“Are you trying to distract me?” A shy smile was on John's face.  
“I am also trying to woo you.”  
“I wanted to lick you open. I also wanted to hit you some more. I brought a riding-crop. I actually planned to fuck you properly today.” John stared into his face. Then he opened his mouth and then he closed it again. Then he had a drink, too. He cleared his throat.  
“And are you still up to it?” The taller man groaned and stood.  
“Yes, I am. Let's continue. Bedroom?” John pointed the way and was pulled behind. He was pushed against the wall. His sweatpants were pooling around his ankles in a second.  
“Brace against the wall, John, and spread your legs.” He did as being told and was pulled a bit backwards by the hips. He stepped out of his sweatpants and his foot kicked it to the side first and then pushed his legs apart some more. He gave him some strokes making him moan. He chuckled behind him.  
“So responsive. My little slut ...” Then there was a thud and his hands were on his cheeks parting them. His breath ghosted over his rim and he closed his eyes. Suddenly there was his tongue moving up and down his rim. It circled his hole and poked on his opening. His hand kept touching his prick and balls. In between he bit into his cheeks and he threw his head back panting.  
“Discipline, soldier. Think you can manage without bonds?”  
“Hm .” He got teased some more and his tongue breeched him. His hands hit the wall and he shouted.  
“Or not.” The taller man said and stood. He grabbed him around the waist and threw him face first on the bed. Then he straddled him.  
“You can't control yourself, soldier! You need to be trained a lot better, I am afraid! What do you think, private?” John's head came up and he replied cheekily:  
“It's Captain!” At once he fisted his hair and pulled him up.  
“You cheeky bitch! This calls for a punishment.” He once shook his head making him fist into the sheet and hiss. Then he grabbed his tee and just ripped it off his body. He tore it apart and stuffed a piece into his mouth. He secured it with another stripe making him moan when he knotted it behind his head. He used two more to tie his wrists separately to the headboard.  
He moved off the bed and their eyes met again.  
“Up on your knees again.” He pulled his legs under and his arse came back up. The taller man left the room and returned with his duffle. But at first, he stuck his tongue back into him. John tore at the fabric making the headrest rattle.  
His hole was loose and open by now and the taller man took the riding-crop in his hands.  
“I will teach you proper behaviour, slut. Obviously, you need to be punished to know where you belong, know how to act, know what to do. Is that right?” John nodded and shifted on his knees.  
“When I am done with you, bitch, you will know to suppress your pity noises. Instead you will count the strokes, thank me and beg for more.” This vision made John moan into his gag and his cock leaked.  
“I forgot the most important. If you ever come without me telling you, allowing you, I will punish you. I will put your cock into a cage and have you wear it for days. You won't be able to touch yourself or come. Whatever I will be doing to you. Did you understand?” John nodded and the prospect made him leak even more.  
“Although I think you might need some help right now.” He bound his cock with a piece of rope which he pulled back between his legs. He once roughly pulled preventing him from coming.  
Then he started to hit him. He hit his cheeks, his back, and his thighs. John screamed into his gag but didn't safe-word. He had to pull the rope several times. John was rock hard. The taller man looked at what he had done. There were beautiful welts forming which would bruise prettily on his body.  
“You are so beautiful like this, John.” He praised moving his hand over his waist and hips. Then he reached into his duffle again and retrieved the prostate massager. Only it was a bigger one this time. He slicked it up and shoved it rather forcefully into John making him scream again.  
He got bondage tape now and started to wound it around his ankles, knees, and thighs until he couldn't move them anymore. He untied his wrists and pulled him down on his bed. He wound it around his arms, too, and afterwards around his chest.  
“Now you look like a wormy slut, John.” That made him blush again and he grinned. He took off the gag and instead used the tape all over his head except for his nostrils.  
“Do you have any idea how often you are able to orgasm?” He mumbled something behind the tape.  
“Oh, don't worry, I will show you right now. At first you will be able to ejaculate but later on there will be only pain.” He switched on the massager making him move like a serpent. He held him back for what felt like hours by pulling at the rope around his prick. Finally, he removed the rope and just let him come. He didn't switch off the massager though and he came again. And again.  
His prostate would be over-sensitive by now and so was his cock. His moves were weak but the feeling still was intense. He gave him a break and instead started to hit on his soles. John tried to move away but he held him. He gave him five strokes each and saw his cock was half way up again. Then he licked his nipples which he hadn't taped over. John sobbed and kept moving weakly.  
He wound his long fingers around his prick and stroked him slowly and teasingly until he was hard and fully erect again.  
“You are so responsive, I liked that from the start. I saw at once that you were into pain.” John moaned. The taller man started to cut off the tape. John was barely able to move. He had left his head. He turned him on his back and placed his legs over his shoulder. He pulled out the massager making him groan behind the tape. He fisted his own cock some more and pushed into his own hand. Finally, he lined up and breeched him without preparation. He wouldn't need it. John was still slick from the plug and it went in fine. But now he howled when he started to fuck him. And fuck him he did. Hard and fast.  
He bent his legs and almost pressed them into his chest. He felt him being close and he was, too. He took away the tape around his head which was a sweaty mass. One hand curled around his cock and he increased his speed. He wanted to see him when he came into him. His arms came up and he shivered. The taller man understood perfectly well what he wanted, what he needed. He let go of his cock and entwined their fingers. They locked eyes and came. Together.  
John blacked out again.

***

Carefully he pulled out but John didn't move. He cleaned him and got all the used stuff off the bed. He pulled up the duvet over him and walked back into the living-room where he opened the window again and had a smoke. He also had another drink. He got a tooth-brush out of his bag and brushed his teeth. Then he climbed in bed beside John and fell asleep.  
John woke because he felt something. Somebody. In his bed. Suddenly he remembered. Jesus, fuck, he must have fallen asleep. He looked to his left and saw him. He was sleeping, too. Naked. He carefully lifted up the duvet. There were bruises everywhere, he could feel them. But he had been cleaned again. He still felt his cock tingling and so did his spine. This had been intense.  
As was the need to use the loo. He stood and had to close his eyes not to groan. His arse was sore as hell. So was his back. He slumped into the bath and looked into the mirror. His back was covered in criss-crossed bruises and welts. His soles were, too, when he had a closer look.  
He brushed his teeth. He walked into his living-room and sipped some wine. He still had a dreamy smile on his face. Then his eyes fell on the folder. He would have to bring him in and talk to Greg.  
First of all, he wanted to know his name. Finally.  
John's stomach rumbled. He was hungry like fuck. He picked up his sweatpants and found a fresh tee and socks. The sleeping beauty kept sleeping. He let him.  
He checked his supplies and decided on something quick. He cooked pasta and created a creamy cheese sauce with mushrooms. While preparing he sipped the wine.  
Suddenly he heard him call out for him.

***

He slowly woke. He had slept dreamless but now everything was back. He felt for John with his eyes still closed. But the other side of the bed was empty and the sheet felt cold. He must have woken up earlier. He sat up and rubbed over his tired eyes.  
“John?” He called his name even though he could hear him and smell the food. It smelled delicious. Then there was John standing beside the bed.  
“Yes, Sir? Back on duty, Sir, and happy to serve!” His smile was a bit lopsided but he reached out for him. John came closer and let him take his hand.  
“Thank you.” He seriously said looking up at him. Surely a position he was rarely found in. John shook his head and wondered.  
“What for?” He moved his thumb over his knuckles.  
“For letting me stay. For letting me cry on your shoulder. For your being here for me. For letting me have my way with you. Thank you.” John smiled brightly and his blue eyes shone. The taller man was lost in them.  
“You are welcome, Sir. Any time.” Now he openly smiled at him.  
“It's Sherlock. My name is Sherlock, Sherlock Holmes. As much as I like you calling me Sir all the time. But my name is Sherlock.” John outright laughed and left the room to check on their dinner. He looked at his retreating back and slowly got up. Then he walked into the bathroom where he found fresh towels laid out for him. His clothes hung there, too. He smiled. He felt good.  
He showered and thought of them having sex. It had been brilliant; John was a natural. He loved pain and he knew his limits. He was the perfect sub, eager to learn and to be trained. Even though he wouldn't sub 24/7 which was fine with him. He wondered if he would like to see him regularly. He really liked him.  
He towelled himself dry and looked at his posh clothes. He sighed and wished for something comfier. Suddenly it knocked on the door.  
“Yes, John? Come in!” John opened the door and held out a ratty tee and sweatpants.  
“I know these would be a bit wide and way too short but I thought you might like something comfy?”  
“Are you reading my mind, John? I just thought …” He shook his head and took the offered clothes. The pants were too short and ended on his mid-calves. He pulled the strings and knotted them so they wouldn't move over his hips. The tee was fairly wide and ended right above his belly-button. But it was comfy.  
John tilted his head and looked him up and down. Then he grinned.  
“You look like a pirate on vacation!” Then he turned around and kept doing whatever he was doing. Sherlock had a look in the mirror and knew he was damn right. He grinned, too, and followed him.  
“Dinner is almost ready. I hope you like it.” Sherlock sat down at the little kitchen table. John had set up the table with a table cloth and napkins. Even a candle was burning.  
“It smells delicious.” John brought over two bowls and poured wine. Then he sat down making an inviting gesture and Sherlock helped himself. John filled his plate afterwards and they started to eat.  
Sherlock was eating slowly but after the first bites he devoured his first helping. He had some wine and tried to look unsuspiciously into the bowl.  
“Would you like some more? There is more?” John offered and Sherlock just nodded. He stood and filled his plate again. Sherlock ate that, too, being watched by John. When he was done, he leant back and closed his eyes.  
“How long haven't you been eating?” He shrugged and opened his eyes again.  
“I am not sure. I had something small now and then. But nothing like this, delicious like this, in weeks or even months.”  
“I am glad to hear that you liked it. You should eat more regularly and you are smart enough to know it yourself.”  
“The body is just transport.” John looked up.  
“And a very beautiful transport. I wouldn't like to see it wasted.”  
“I will try my very best, doctor, to act after your wishes. You may want to help with it?” John gave him a wicked smile.  
“Help as in tie you to a chair and force-feed you?” He laughed.  
“I would like to see you try!”  
“Don't wish for too much!” Sherlock sensed a challenge. Here was the fighter speaking. They drank more wine and Sherlock eyed the windowsill where his ashtray still sat.  
John stood and walked over to retrieve it. He opened the window, too. He sat the ashtray and his pack of fags with the lighter on the table and then brought drinks, too.  
“Here you go.” He very much wanted to touch him but he did not know if he would like it. Sherlock looked up and smiled.  
“Thank you, John.” He saw the want in his eyes, the longing for him. He knew this was starting to be dangerous. But he liked it. He liked him. They looked at each other and he knew he had to be the one to act. He slowly stood and embraced him. At once he relaxed in his arms.  
Sherlock moved his nails over his scalp and he closed his eyes tilting his head into the touch. And then Sherlock kissed him. He brushed his lips over his still closed mouth. It could be barely called a kiss and it was the most tender move he could have made.  
Normally he never kissed a client. Never. Ever. But this had already left the stage of client. It was over the moment he had entered his flat and his bedroom, stayed, used his bathroom, had supper.  
John made a noise and his hands were on his hips holding on to him. His eyes shot open and dark blue eyes looked into his. His pupils were dilated. And then he kissed back. And kiss he did.  
Sherlock was surprised when he was moved back over to the sofa and pushed down. John straddled him. One hand sat on his neck and the other palmed his face. He crushed their lips together. Sherlock held on to him and let him do what he wanted, let him take what he needed.  
He sucked his lips and tongue. He even bit down and elicited feral noises. When he slowed down and just moved his tongue in his mouth, just tender and slow swirls around his tongue and gum, he purred beneath him.  
When they both needed to breath, John sat back a bit on his lap and watched Sherlock lick his lips.  
“I am impressed, John.” His hands stroked over his bum.  
“I wanted to impress you, Sherlock.” He slowly started to rut against his thigh.  
“Why would you do such a thing, John?” They locked eyes again and John's tongue poked out. Sherlock pulled him right against his crotch and pressed up rubbing their cocks against each other.  
“I want you to come back and be with me again. I want you.”  
“And I want you. I would like to see you regularly. Here, at your place. Not in my studio.” John kissed him again and soon enough they were roughly groping at each other.  
Sherlock's hand sneaked into his pants and palmed his cock. John threw his head back and yelped.  
“You are making the most interesting noises, John.” He kept panting when Sherlock stroked him faster and faster. He started to move his hips and fucked himself through his hand. Sherlock's other hand started to fondle his balls. He kissed him again, sucked his tongue and licked over his lips. When he came, he bit down on the part of skin where shoulder met neck. Sherlock groaned and bucked up coming.  
John's legs were trembling and he rested his forehead on his shoulder. He saw he had drawn blood and he pulled away the hem of the tee and licked it off. Sherlock closed his eyes and moaned. No, he purred beneath him.  
John moved a bit back and placed his palms on his shoulder.  
“We should go and see Greg now.” Sherlock looked up.  
“Who is Greg?”  
“DI Lestrade at NSY. He gave me the file to have a closer look.”  
“Have you seen him?” He looked into his eyes and saw the sadness in them. He nodded.  
“Yes, I have been to the morgue and had a closer look. That's why he called me.” Sherlock swallowed.  
“He would want me to identify the body, I assume?”  
“Yes, I think so. But he will be examined and cleaned by then and look different.” He sighed and heaved John off of him.  
“Let's shower.” He pulled him behind into the bath. John just followed. The last time he had showered not being alone had been in Kandahar in a base camp.  
John got the full treatment. He got washed and shampooed and rinsed afterwards. He just stood there and enjoyed being cleaned. Afterwards he even towelled him dry.  
John kept smiling all dreamily and Sherlock liked the sight of that. Then he smacked his bum.  
“Get dressed. The earlier we are done.” He woke and pouted but did as being told. Sherlock dressed into his posh clothes from yesterday.  
They met again in the living-room and John was wearing a jumper. Sherlock eyed it.  
“What's wrong?” John asked.  
“Why do you have to wear such ugly jumpers?”  
“They are comfy and warm.” John moved his palm over his chest and looked at him.  
“They are ugly. You deserve better. We need to go shopping.”  
“Ugly?” John asked.  
“Don't be sad, John. I will make it better.”  
“Sherlock, I can't afford the things you wear. I work part-time at a hospital's A&E.”  
“Yes, yes, whatever. Let's go.” John sighed but followed him. He locked his door and was stopped at the kerb when he wanted to head for the tube.  
“Where are you going, John?” He looked at him with his eyebrows raised.  
“The tube?” John shrugged and Sherlock snorted.  
“I don't do tube.” And then he just raised his arm and yelled “taxi!”. Three seconds later a cab stopped beside them. John was shoved in the back followed by Sherlock. John told the cabbie to go to Bart's hospital and they drove off. John pulled out his mobile and called Greg. They agreed to meet there in half an hour.  
When they stood on the aisle in front of the morgue John held Sherlock back.  
“Let's wait for Greg. This needs to be official. You can stay afterwards for as long as you need.” Sherlock looked at him and nodded. Then he looked at John's hand on his arm and slowly John took it away. Sherlock snatched it back and held his hand. He kept holding it all the time. He only let go when he saw a man coming up to them.  
“John, hallo. You must be Sherlock Holmes. I am sorry you had to find out like this.” Sherlock just nodded.  
“Can I see him now?” Cold voice. Emotionless. John was worried. Greg led the way followed close by Sherlock. John stayed back a bit but at once Sherlock turned his head looking for him. Greg opened the storage and pulled out the stretcher on which a covered body laid. John saw him swallow and carefully stroked over his back. He felt him tremble.  
“Are you ready?” Greg asked and Sherlock nodded. Greg pulled back the sheet and Sherlock made a painful noise in his throat. Tears welled up in his eyes and his hand touched his head.  
“This is him.” Greg just nodded.  
“Thank you for coming here. You may stay as long as you want.” He left making a phone sign to John who nodded back. Only after Greg had left the room, he grabbed John's hand. He cried silently for minutes resting his head on the dead man's chest. Then he once sobbed and kissed his forehead. He turned to John again and he just moved him over to a chair and made him sit down. He took a box with Kleenex and wiped over his nose and mouth. Snot had dribbled out of his nose. Then he poured him water and made him drink. His face was blotchy and his eyes were red. His lips quivered and his eyes were still wet. John just stepped between his legs and held him. He slung his arms around his waist and pressed his face against his woollen jumper. John carded his finger through his hair.  
“What do you need?”  
“You, John. I need you. I don't want to be alone. Please, don't leave me alone.” John kissed his head.  
“I won't. I will stay. Whatever you want, whatever you need, I will be there for you.” He raggedly breathed. Then he looked up.  
“Thank you ...” John tipped his nose.  
“Come on. Let's go home.”  
This time John shoved Sherlock into a cab. He slumped down and his head fell back. John was worried. Sherlock's skin was clammy and cold. He was going into shock. He barely made it back into John's flat. His teeth shattered and he hugged himself.  
John tried to get him into his bedroom but Sherlock just dropped on his knees and sat there for a second. Then he laid down fully dressed. He pulled up his legs and rolled on his side. He closed his eyes and stayed there.  
John shed his jacket and boots and knelt by his side. He carded through his hair again.  
“Sherlock? Please, get up and into bed. You can't stay down there. Sherlock!” He didn't react at all. John knew he had to do something. He couldn't let him stay on the floor like this. He got off his shoes and coat.  
He had carried more than his weight through the desert. He pulled him up in a half-sitting position and got up on one knee. He got him over his shoulder and stood. It felt like it was less weight than him and his former equipment combined. He easily carried him over into his bedroom. He carefully lowered him down on the bed. He undressed him and he let everything happen.  
He had a closer look then and used his fingers to open his eye. No reaction whatsoever. He felt his pulse and it was beating steadily. He left him for a few minutes and used the loo. He got some water and undressed himself. Sherlock was moving restlessly by now. As soon as John was back by his side he calmed down at once. John pulled the duvet up over both of them and held him tight. He shivered once but didn't wake. John listened to his ragged breathing and fast beating heart for a while until he calmed down by his side. Only then he fell asleep.

***

John woke the next morning because he felt a bit crowded. He could barely move. He opened his eyes and tried to analyse his situation.  
Sherlock's body was covering his own. He was crowding him. His legs were holding his own down. His arms were around his chest pressing his arms to his side. His cheek was on his face and his head was covered by his longish hair. His nose was tickled and he tried to blow it off his nose.  
He felt him stir and heard him make tiny noises. He was waking up and he decided just to wait. A few minutes later he lifted up his head and let go of him. John slowly turned around and sat up against the headrest. Sherlock stayed where he was.  
Somehow John knew he had to take over. He palmed his face and moved his thumb over his cheekbone. He closed his eyes and sighed. The tension left again. Then he sat up, too, and looked at John.  
“Why are you doing this? John? Why?” John looked into his eyes and considered the question.  
“The moment I met you, in your studio, I knew you were special. I felt safe with you at once. I trusted you at once. You helped me. I felt great again after such a long time. I don't want to lose you. I don't want you to suffer. I want to help you, be there for you. Whenever you need me.”  
Sherlock looked at John and tried to analyse his own feelings. He never had a boyfriend or a long-term lover. He only had his work. Caring for people wasn't an advantage, he had had to look at the proof again.  
But this was different, he already had felt the change inside him. The moment he saw him walk into his studio; he had known. This man was special. Could this be the one? A companion? A friend even? The only thing he knew was, he didn't want to let go.  
“What happened yesterday? I can hardly remember leaving the morgue.” He slowly shook his head. John sighed and looked at his hands on the duvet. Then he told him. Sherlock didn't register the change in him.  
He waited for something, a word, a touch, but there came nothing. Sherlock stared into nothing. John got up and wanted to walk into the bath. That made him look up again and move his limbs out of the bed, too. But John held him back and told him to back up.  
“No, Sherlock, please leave me alone.” He disappeared into the bath and Sherlock could hear the shower. He wondered what had happened. Should he have said something after the things John had told him? He thought John knew how he felt. Why should he have told him?  
He walked over into the kitchen and looked for the coffee. He even had the decency to cover himself with the sheet. He found two mugs and the milk. He looked for sugar and found some packages clearly taken home from a café. Then he waited for John to come out.  
And when he did come out, he was already dressed. Not naked. Now Sherlock was absolutely sure he had done something wrong. He only had no idea what. But he also knew he had to do something about it. So, he handed John his mug and waited for him to sit down. Only then he sat down, too, and looked at him. He looked sad but wouldn't say something. Sherlock cleared his throat and looked into his mug. He bit his lip and looked into his eyes.  
“Please, John. Whatever I have done wrong, I am sorry. For sure I have missed something, said something wrong or acted weird. But only because I don't know how to handle this situation. Us.”  
“Go on.” No more. John leant back in his chair and looked at him.  
“I know how to handle people in my studio. It's what I do. But this, this you and me thing, is different. I never had a close friend I could share the sex with. I never stayed overnight at another place than my own home. This kind of interaction I have no idea of. So, I am just telling you that I am sorry for whatever I might have done wrong and ask you kindly to help me prevent it in the future.”  
“I see.” John said and looked into his eyes now.  
“I think I really do.” And then he smiled and held out his hand. Sherlock stood and dropped on his knees by his side. Only then he took his hand.  
“I am truly sorry. Please forgive me, John?” John pecked a kiss on his nose and smiled.  
“I forgive you, Sherlock.” Then he tilted his head.  
“I like the sight of you like this.” Sherlock thinly smiled.  
“Don't get used to it, John.” But he didn't get up.  
“You owe me one.” Now Sherlock shrugged the sheet off his shoulders.  
“Are you challenging me?” John grinned.  
“Maybe?”  
“I am curious. What would you like to do to me?” Now John licked his lips.  
“I want to fight with you. I will overpower you. I will make you helpless and then I will be having my wicked way with you.” Sherlock just stared at him. Then he dryly swallowed.  
“I can't remember the last time I trusted someone to have his way with me.”  
“Do you trust me?” The most important question ever. Sherlock shyly smiled.  
“Yes, John, I do trust you.” They kissed for a long time and Sherlock stayed on his knees.


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and John can't meet every single day due to Sherlock's appointments all day and night and John's work at the hospital.
> 
> They start sexting. John is constantly reminded of Sherlock.
> 
> John does a bit too much for Sherlock's liking and calls safeword. They talk.
> 
> And they play.

Sherlock had appointments with his clients and John had to work his shifts. They had to check their mobiles to find free time to see each other again.  
When Sherlock left, they kissed languidly in the door.  
“See you next Wednesday, Sherlock. I can't wait!”  
“I'll be here!” Sherlock waved good-bye and left. John longingly looked after him but then left for his shift, too. He was happy even though nothing was said about boyfriend or love. But he knew there was something.

He shifted on his chair when he typed some reports. He really had put a harness around his cock. He wasn't able to masturbate or come with this thing on. He was able to use the loo and wash but no more. Sometimes he could feel it grow when he was thinking of Sherlock and what he had done to him, but soon he was feeling the cage and it slacked again.

Wednesday. Two more days to wait, to endure. He sighed and finished his report. Then his mobile dinged. He looked at the display and smiled. Sherlock.

_“Are you feeling comfortable?”  
SH_

_“No. Not at all.”  
JW_

_“Good!”  
SH_

Then there was a break because John had patients to attend to. When he came back there were several texts from Sherlock.

_“Tonight, I want you naked on your bed. Kneel for me and make a picture.”  
SH_

_“Confirm!”  
SH_

_“John?”  
SH_

_“Oh, surgery.”  
SH_

John had to smile. His cock would be chafed raw on Friday. He typed his reply.

_“Confirm!”  
JW_

_“Good boy!”  
SH_

_“Waiting for your picture!”  
SH_

John had to go again. His shift ended in about three hours. If he was lucky.

***

John was lucky and even could leave a bit early. A smile was plastered on his face when he drove home. He had a snack for dinner and a drink. Then he climbed on his bed with his mobile. He took the picture of his caged prick and sent it over.

_“See? I am behaving.”  
JW_

It took him some minutes to reply but there he was.

_“I didn't expect anything else.”  
SH_

_“Who are you?”  
SH_

_“Your slut, Sir.”  
JW_

_“I left a box in your broom closet. Go and get it.”  
SH_

John stared at the text but then got up. He opened the door and found the box on the top shelf. He retrieved it and brought it into his bedroom. There was already another text waiting for him.

_“Found it, slut?”  
SH_

_“Yes, Sir.”  
JW_

_“Open it.”  
SH_

John opened the lid and saw a ball-gag, nipple clamps, several plugs, and cuffs in various sizes. He jerked when his mobile rang. Sherlock was requesting a video call. Fuck.

“Hallo, slut!” The grin was heard in his voice. And he could also see it.  
“Hallo, Sir.”  
“Show me again!” He moved his mobile down and could hear him breathe. Then he hummed.  
“Did you open the box?”  
“Yes, Sir.”  
“And did you like what you found in there?”  
“Yes, Sir.”  
“Very good, slut. Now show me what a well-behaved slut you are. Take the collar and put it around your neck. Then clamp your nipples tight, I want to see it. Go on!”  
“As you wish, Sir.” John buckled the collar around his neck and at once felt warm. Next he screwed the clamps open and started to tease his own nipples before he clamped them. He already felt his spine tingle and his cock swell. Soon enough it was stopped by the harness. The already chafed skin hit the harness and he hissed.  
“Let me see.” John moved the mobile down.  
“A bit closer.” He hummed again.  
“Take it off. You are hurting yourself.” John looked at him on the little display.  
“No, it's nothing. I will be fine.”  
“Helmand. John, stop it and take it off.”  
“You are using my safe-word.”  
“I borrowed it. And now shut up and take it off.”  
“You took the key with you.” Sherlock laughed.  
“I would never be so reckless. The key is in your sugar bowl. Go get it and take it off. Now!” John walked out of the bedroom and retrieved it. He took it off right in the kitchen. He returned and picked up the mobile again.  
“It's off.”  
“Show me.” John did that, too.  
“You should have said something earlier, John.”  
“I didn't want to disappoint you. I don't want to be a weak loser.”  
“Don't act stupid. That's why we are having a safe-word. And if you won't use it, I will. Are we clear?” John sheepishly smiled down on his phone.  
“Yes, Sir. We are clear.”  
“Very well. Would you like to continue?”  
“Yes, Sir.”  
“Suck your finger. I want to see it.” John sucked his finger. He had an idea where this would lead to.  
“Now finger yourself open for me. Set up the mobile behind you, so I can see. Talk to me, I want to hear you, too. Tell me what you are doing and why. Go on!” John swallowed and placed the mobile strategically.  
He knelt on his bed, collared, and clamped and touched his hole. He circled it and carefully pressed. Suddenly Sherlock's voice barked out of the speaker.  
“I can't hear you! Talk to me, bitch!” John jerked but obediently started to speak.  
“Yes, Sir! I am sorry. I want to be good for you, that's why I am circling my hole right now. But it's tight. I am pressing down with my forefinger, but it burns, it won't fit.”  
“Use the lube. But first switch on the clamps.” John did that and they started to vibrate around his nipples. He bit his lip.  
“Now pull up the chain and connect it to your collar.” John obeyed and there was the strain.  
“Proceed, slut. I want to see your finger up your arse. And don't forget to talk to me!”  
“I am feeling the strain now right up my spine. My nipples are on fire. I am pressing my finger down now and I breached myself. I am in up to the first knuckle. Can you see it, Sir?”  
“Yes, I can see it, slut. Very well done, such a proper arse slut. Well behaved, well trained.”  
“Thank you, Sir.” John was panting and kept pushing.  
“It's all inside now. I move it over the flesh, I am pressing down. I can't find it, it isn't easy.” Some seconds later he somehow found it because he yelled. His cock twitched and he was leaking.  
“Now make it two and spread them. Open yourself wide.”  
“Yes, Sir. The second finger went in easier. I have both of my fingers inside my arse now and spread them. Wide. Again, and again.”  
“Don't forget about the why, slut!” John swallowed. He licked his lips and tried to look over his shoulder.  
“Oh, slut, I know what you want. But I want to hear you!”  
“Yes, Sir. I am sorry, Sir.” He licked his lips. Again.  
“I have fucked myself open because you told me so and I am nothing but your slut, your arse slut. You were kind enough to allow me some pleasure and I am thanking you, Sir. I want to stuck my fingers back in and touch my prostate. Please?” Sherlock snickered.  
“Shove them back in right now. Fuck yourself for me!”  
“Thank you, Sir!” At once John started to finger himself again. He moved up and down on his fingers. Soon enough he was panting and sweating again. Then he heard his voice.  
“You may rub yourself. You may want to stuff something into your greedy mouth though not to alert your neighbours.” Sherlock grinned when he saw the look on John's face.  
“But wait a second. Show me your hole.” John pulled out his fingers and showed him. He clenched around nothing and felt filthy.  
“Yes, that looks good. Well done, slut. Now clean your fingers. Show me.” John moaned quietly and looked directly at the little display when he stuck his fingers into his mouth and sucked and licked them clean. He could hear him pant now, too.  
“Very good, bitch. Now get the plug out of the box, the big silver one. Slick it up and shove it up your arse.” John did that, too. It was heavy in his hands when he lined it up and carefully breached himself again. Of course, it was thicker than his two fingers but he slowly worked it up.  
“I will help you with your neighbours. Take the plug shaped gag and rub some of your pre-cum over it. Don't forget to buckle it tight. Let me see.” John moved the plug over his cock and used his finger to wipe his cum over it. Then he opened his mouth and buckled it tight behind his head. All the time he looked into the display. He could taste himself on the plug and the feeling shot right south. Also, the plug pressed his tongue down and reached quite far into his mouth.  
“Very good, slut. I am pleased so far.” John was drooling already but he didn't dare wipe it off his chin.  
“There are ankle and wrist cuffs. I want you to close them around your ankles and your wrists. Your wrists will go on your back of course. Use the metal carabineers to connect them. The keys are stuck in the butter. However, you will get to the keys will be your problem but you should be able to shuffle into your kitchen on your knees. Where you belong, slut.” John moaned louder now. He closed his eyes for a few seconds. He trusted him.  
He cuffed his ankles and attached the carabineer.  
“Heel, slut, so the plug won't fall out.” John sat on his heels and got the second pair of cuffs. He closed them around one wrist, hooked the carabineer into the chain and closed the second. Now he was doomed. He drooled some more around the plug and looked at the display.  
Sherlock looked very smug. He could see him sitting in an armchair. His legs were apart and he was fisting himself. John's eyes widened.  
“I am enjoying the sight, bitch. Come on, entertain me. It should start any minute now.” John wondered what. About ten seconds later he knew what he meant. The plug in his arse started to move. He groaned when the head started to come alive. It slowly rotated coming up and down. The whole thing was moving over his prostate and he groaned.  
Sherlock leant forward a bit and grinned. John was sweating and his body shook.  
“Oh, you wish you could touch your own cock now, don't you, slut?” John grunted and nodded.  
“You could try catching it between your thighs. Move your hips and catch it. Show me, John.” He really tried but didn't manage. He was too erect by now to get it down between his legs. And he wasn't able to lift his leg up high enough to shove it down.  
He also tried to get his head down to reach at least the top of it but he was held back by the metal attached to his ankle cuffs. He would fall down if he tried this again.  
“I think I am having several ideas for your training, slut.” He chuckled and John closed his eyes.  
Meanwhile the thing in his arse had increased its speed and kept rubbing constantly and fast over his prostate. John was sweating and panting and just bucking up to get a little friction when his cock fell back on his body. More snot was running out of his nose.  
“You are such a sight, bitch. I love that!” John desperately pushed his hips forward. He was sweating badly and was glad he had the gag in his mouth so his screams were muffled.  
The need to orgasm was building up. He kept leaking but didn't dare coming without Sherlock allowing him. He made pleading noises and looked into the camera. Sherlock had obviously just come because he was wiping over his groin. He looked up again.  
“I am sure you would like to come, too, hm, slut?” John nodded and made noises.  
“Roll off your bed and kneel in front of it but stay on camera focus. Rut against the bed and come for me. Move!” John shuffled to the edge and slowly moved down. He screamed when he lost one clamp in the process. His knees hit the floor and he groaned again.  
He was close to a post and started to push forward. He rubbed his cock against the wood and over it. It was heavenly. His shoulders hunched and it didn't take long until he screamed and yelled and came over the side of his bed.  
After a few minutes he opened his eyes again and straightened his body. He looked on the phone and there he was. Close again.  
“There you are, bitch. That was a perfect show. You were great. Now unhook the carabineer and get into the kitchen. On your knees. I am watching you, slut. Move!” John's fingers felt for the carabineer and he undid it. And then he started to move. Of course, he could have stood and shuffle in tiny steps but Sherlock didn't allow it. He had to move on his knees. And due to his shackled ankles, he could only make tiny moves and it took him almost ten minutes to reach the door to his bedroom. He could still hear Sherlock yell through the speakers.  
“Right where you belong, bitch! Great! Move on!” John pushed the door open with his face and shuffled on. Ten more minutes and he was leaning against the fridge. He groaned. His knees burnt and his legs were cramping. He also was hard as a rock again. He once pushed against the fridge and moaned.  
Then he pushed himself up on his feet again and turned around to grab the handle. He pulled and the cold air hit his body. He shivered. He carefully turned around and found the keys stuck in the butter. It was placed right on the lowest shelf so he could reach it with his cuffed wrists. He turned around again and reached for it. Of course, the butter made everything oily and slick and he dropped the key.  
He got hold of a tea towel and wiped his hands and the key. And then he started to attach it into the cuffs. It felt like hours but finally it opened. He leant on the counter and moaned. Then he opened the other half and massaged his wrists. He bent down and undid the ankle cuffs. He was bruised but not too bad.  
He refrained from removing his gag. He hadn't been told. And he was still fucked in his behind. It kept moving and moving. He badly wanted to touch himself again but Sherlock would know. So, he hurried back into his bedroom as fast as he could. He climbed back up on his bed and his arms just hung down.  
“There you are, slut. What took you so long?” He leant forward in his chair and looked at him.  
“I think you do need more training. It took way too long and I got bored.” Sherlock snickered when he listened to John's almost non-understandable muttering behind and around his gag. But he knew anyway.  
“That's right, bitch! But I can see you are well-behaved. You left your gag on and the plug is still working, too.” John nodded and showed his behind.  
“Perfect! To finish you up I want you to touch your cock. Show me what you like and come for me whenever you want.”  
John spread his legs and took his prick. He slowly stroked it being careful due to his chafed off skin. His other hand was on his balls and he fondled them, held them, and pressed them. The plug inside him kept moving and pushing and his prostate felt swollen. He pulled at his own cock and grabbed one cheek. Suddenly he knew what he needed to do. He rolled on his side presenting his arse to Sherlock. One hand kept fisting his cock and the other took hold of the plug. He moved both hands in synchrony and his legs trembled.  
He felt his balls pull up and came wildly all over his hand and sheet. He screamed and yelled. His whole body shook and he writhed on the bed. And then he heard the voice. His voice.  
“I am impressed, slut. That was a sight. I loved it and came again, too.” John smiled but kept down.  
“You may take off the gag now.” John's hands came up and he had to try several times until he was able to unbuckle it with his shaking hands.  
“Turn around, John, and look at me.” John slowly turned around and pulled the mobile closer. Out of exhausted eyes he looked at him.  
“I do look forward to Friday, John. You are unbelievable.” John smiled tiredly.  
“Me, too.” He whispered.  
“Think about the challenge.” And he hung up. John's eyes widened and he stared at the dark display. He remembered and a small wicked smile showed on his lips.


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Sherlock meet again and this time for the whole weekend. And this time they changed roles.

Friday came sooner than expected. Sherlock had cleared the day and the next off. He was expected at John's flat at around two in the afternoon. He had bought some decent wine and whiskey and had some menus from his favourite take-away places in his bag he wanted to keep at John’s place.  
The day before he had bought a jumper for John. It was made from black lambs’ wool. He hoped he wouldn't get that the wrong way but he had felt the need to get him something nice. He even wrapped it himself. And that's how it looked now. Crumpled paper with a bow on top.  
He checked his watch and then had a last look in the mirror. He was dressed less posh. He wore denims and a white button down. Combined with a pair of converse he looked younger than he was. His hair did what it wanted anyway and he didn't care.  
He left his flat and hailed a cab. He gave John's address. He had to admit; he was excited to see him again after the show he had watched the day before yesterday. He also wondered if John would try to fight him, overpower him. And what would he do? Would he fight back and order him to stop? Or would he play the game?  
The cab had arrived and he paid the driver. He looked up and saw the warm shine of a fire and candles. He smiled. He looked forward to see John again, touch him again. He rang the bell and he could hear him hurry to the door. He almost ripped it open and a goofy smile was plastered on his face.  
“Sherlock ...” Said one made a step forward and placed his backpack on the floor. Then he turned around to face John.  
“John, come here.” He held out his arms and John hugged him. Their lips found each other and they kissed. He closed the door with his foot. The kiss wasn't hard or wanting. Just tender moves and longing. Sherlock was surprised but he liked it, he needed it.  
John broke the kiss and looked up at him.  
“It's good to hold you.” Sherlock smiled.  
“Yes, it is. It feels good to be here in your arms.” John took his coat and hung it up. Then he had a closer look and Sherlock felt weird.  
“What is it, John? Is it not good?” But John kept smiling.  
“No, it's perfect. You look fantastic. Even though your hair looks like an exploded cushion.” Sherlock tried to press it down but to no avail. John heartily laughed and eyed his backpack.  
“What did you bring?”  
“I brought you a present.” He blurted it out and John sensed some self-consciousness.  
“It's not my birthday. Why did you bring me a present?”  
“No, your birthday is September 23rd. I just felt like doing it.” Now John looked excited.  
“I am not asking how you know my birthday. What did you bring? What is it?” Sherlock opened his backpack and retrieved the package. He tried to flatten it a bit but to no avail. John looked over his shoulder and smiled at his futile attempt. He had wrapped it himself, obviously.  
He stood again and handed it over. John snatched it out of his hands and carried it over to the sofa. He sat down and eyed it. The crumpled paper and the bow on top. Sherlock had stayed behind and now carried the bottles into the kitchen.  
John opened the present and found the black jumper. He looked at the brand and swallowed. He felt the smooth fabric and sighed. Then he buried his face into it. It was fantastic on his skin.  
Suddenly Sherlock was by his side.  
“Do you like it?” John looked up and kept holding the jumper. He smiled brightly.  
“Yes, I do. It's beautiful and way too expensive.” Sherlock touched his hair then.  
“Oh, shut up, John. Please. I wanted to do something nice. I felt the need to give you something.”  
“I like it. I do.” John stood and pulled him close. Then he kissed him languidly.  
“Thank you.” Sherlock palmed his face and kissed back. He felt strange. Happy. Alive. Warm.  
When they broke apart, Sherlock seriously looked at him.  
“What about your skin? Any bruises? Badly chafed skin? Something I need to know?”  
“I am a doctor, you know? I took care of it and everything is just fine.”  
“I am glad to hear that.” He sat on the sofa and stretched out his legs.  
“You are exhausted. Been busy?” Sherlock looked up and smiled a very lopsided smile.  
“Yes, very much so. But now I am here. With you.”  
“Tea?” John asked and to his own surprise Sherlock nodded.  
“Yes, please. Splash of milk and two sugars. Thank you, John.” John prepared the tea and placed a piece of cake on a plate which he brought over at once. Sherlock at once took it and licked his lips.  
“This looks tasty.” John shrugged.  
“I baked it this morning.” Sherlock stared at him.  
“You baked a cake. For me.” He shrugged again. He blushed. So adorable.  
“Yes, I did. Please don't make fun of me.” Sherlock took the fork and started to shove the cake into his mouth. He hummed and had it devoured before the tea was ready. He swallowed the last bite and held up the plate.  
John happily smiled and brought him a second one. Then the tea was ready and he brought some for himself, too. John laid the jumper over the armrest and ate his cake. He saw Sherlock inhale his and then drink his tea. Then he lazily smiled at John and touched his thigh.  
“I love this. It feels great. You are. Great. Lovable.” He didn't say it aloud but he looked at him and John understood.  
“What do you want to do?” John asked him.  
“Could we just sit here for a while? Perhaps we could switch some stupid telly on? Would you mind? I would like you to hold me just a little bit.”  
“I can even hold you a bit more.” He cleaned away the dishes and switched on the telly. Then he sat on the sofa and pulled Sherlock up and against his chest. He pulled the blanket from the other armchair and covered them. Sherlock made lazy noises and moved his head to the side, so he could watch the telly. He got rid of his shoes.  
John turned them sideways and held him to his chest. His chin rested on his body and they rested on the sofa. He felt him relax and mumble comments. Finally, he entwined their hands and sighed. A few seconds later he was fast asleep.  
John wondered how long he hadn't been eating or sleeping regularly. He probably had worked his arse off to get this whole weekend clear. His free hand carded through his unruly hair which John liked a lot. He kept doing this for a long time. He inhaled his scent. A bit of smoke and strawberries. Probably his shampoo.  
He let him sleep and watched crap telly over his shoulder. He wasn't tired. He was excited. This was new. Whatever this was. He wanted this man close to him. More often than twice a week.  
After several soaps and hours, he slowly woke again. His body stirred and he purred. His grip tightened and his eyes slowly adjusted.  
“Oh God, John, I am sorry. I fell asleep. I am boring.” He tried to get up but John just held on to his hair and pulled him to his chest.  
“Don't worry, Sherlock. You obviously needed it. It's all fine. Stay down, please.” He relaxed into his grip and came down again.  
Then he turned around and started to touch John. He was hard and he rutted a bit. John's hand reached down and palmed his crotch. He moaned and bit his lip.  
John moved on top of him and rutted against him. He kissed his pulse point. Then he listened to his stomach growl.  
“You haven't eaten. Again. You only had the cake.” He licked over his throat.  
“I brought take-away menus.” John chuckled and shook his head.  
“No, Sherlock. I will cook something. You need something healthy.”  
“That's right, John. I need something healthy.” He grabbed John and turned them around sliding down the sofa and pulling John into a sitting position. He pulled him forward and had his trousers opened in a second. He straightened his body and spread his legs. His palms rested on John's thighs and he snatched his prick out of his pants.  
John yelped and didn't know what to do. He just looked at Sherlock who looked up at him. And then he opened his mouth and sucked his cock. John fell back on the sofa and deeply moaned. Sherlock performed the perfect blow-job on him and John saw stars, fireworks, blinding white lights. His hands fisted into his hair and he moaned.  
Sherlock held him on the verge for a very long time but finally he looked up and their eyes met. John just came. Twice.  
Coming back to life he saw Sherlock sitting on his knees in front of him and he smiled. John took some strands of his longish hair and pulled him up again. And then he snogged his face off.  
Sherlock swayed on his knees until John was done. John stood and walked over into the kitchen. He just followed him and stood by his side. John turned around.  
“This is getting weird. What's wrong with you, Sherlock?” He slowly shook his head.  
“I don't know, John. I don't know ...”  
“Sherlock, please. Do explain your need. What do you want?”  
“You. By my side. Close. More often.”  
“Haven't you ever experienced such a thing with someone?”  
“No. I never felt that kind of trust before. The moment I met you, I was lost.”  
“I know what you are talking about, I really do.”  
“I could just sit here and watch you and I would be perfectly fine. You wouldn't have to do anything, just be there, cook or whatever, and I would be perfectly happy.”  
“Well then. Sit there and be happy. I am happy when you are.”  
“Why?”  
“What?” They looked at each other and then John laughed.  
“Never mind, Sherlock.”

***

After dinner they sipped wine and whiskey. Finally, Sherlock stood and slowly moved his hands over his still clad body in front of John. He swallowed drily and watched his every move.  
“You know what I did for you?” John slowly shook his head.  
“No, I don't.”  
“I was wearing a plug all the time to be ready for you. I want you to fuck me, John. Tonight.”  
“I never, I don't know ...” John helplessly looked at Sherlock.  
“Don't you worry, John. I want you to be it.”  
“Be what?”  
“My first.” John just stared up at him and then slowly shook his head.  
“You have never been penetrated?” He shook his head, too.  
“No, never. Only by implements but never by a warm cock.”  
“And you want mine?” He nodded.  
“I want only yours. I want you to take me, have me, take what you want from me. You challenged me. Now it is your turn.”  
“You want me to overpower you.”  
“You may try.” Now John slowly got up and his whole stance changed somehow. Sherlock could see the change in him. There was the fighter, the soldier. He very much liked what he saw now.  
He carefully moved back a bit but John followed suit.  
“You know I was trained a close combat fighter?” He spread his legs a bit and his arms were half way up.  
“You were an army-doctor.”  
“I did three tours. I am also a very skilled marksman, you know?”  
“Are you trying to scare me, John?” Sherlock snickered.  
“Oh, I don't need to try, Sherlock.” Then John just moved forward with a speed Sherlock hadn't expected. He pushed him against the wall forcing the breath out of his lungs. His arms came up but John just kicked between his feet and brought him down on his arse with a thud. He had to close his eyes and groan when the plug moved deeper inside him.  
John took the opportunity to force him down and rip open his shirt. He pulled it off of him and only then his fists came up and he also tried to kick him. He tried to pull his hair.  
“Oh, you are doing the chick fight, Sherlock? Really? I somehow expected more from you!” John chuckled and pinched him into the liver. Sherlock's eyed widened and he gaped. John just had to turn him around. He straddled him and took his wrists crosswise. He placed one knee on them and forced his head up by some strands of his longish hair.  
“Now where were we, Sherlock?” His legs kicked the air helplessly.  
“Fuck you!” He once pulled his hair sharply.  
“It is 'Fuck you, Captain!' or don't you remember my rank?” Sherlock just hissed.  
“Are we a bit stubborn, hm? Perhaps you are the one in need of a proper training?” He shook his head several times. Sherlock tried to buck him off but to no avail.  
Suddenly John jumped up and stood by his side.  
“Want to try again?” He smiled down on him and Sherlock got up very slowly. He was warned now and wouldn't underestimate him again. This would be fun.

***

They circled around each other for several minutes. Sherlock shook out his arms. John started to talk to him again. Low voiced, feral, predatory.  
“You are not going to escape from this compound. You can get it the hard way or the less hard way.” He snickered. “Either way I am going to have my way with you.” He made a quick step forward and Sherlock moved to the side. He had successfully cornered him. He was trapped and lifted up his arms to fight.  
John jumped and turned. His foot crashed right beside Sherlock against the wall. He got him when he stared at his foot. He just grabbed one wrist and pulled him around. He took him into a bear hug. His arms were useless now. Even though he tried to stomp on his feet and kick back.  
Sherlock's body was thin but muscled. Even though John managed it easily to hold him only with one arm. His free moved south and slapped his groin several times. Sherlock howled.  
“Stop bitching around!” John whispered and hit him with a bit more force. He stopped. His legs trembled and John lowered him down. He reached beside him and under a cushion on the sofa where he had hidden some lengths of rope.  
Sherlock weakly moved on the floor and tried to get up. John grabbed his wrists and tied them on his lower back. He moaned and kept writhing. Now he got a black canvas hood and pulled it over his head. Sherlock's head came up and he shook it wildly but John pulled it closed over his neck and knotted it. Then he pulled him up on his knees.  
“There you go now. I will be having my way with you. But first of all, I will prepare dessert and you will wait for things to happen.” He led him over to the kitchen table and pressed him chest down.  
“I haven't been idle, Sherlock. I bought some nice stuff to play with.” He pulled leather straps around his arms and buckled them so his arms were pulled outwards on the table. The straps had been attached to the underside of the table. His wrists were still tied though.  
Next he pushed his legs apart and strapped them to the table, too. He was helplessly groaning by now. John reached between his legs and rubbed over his groin making him moan.  
“Would you like to come, hm? Perhaps I will make you come into your trousers and keep them on you? I have been told it's rather itchy after some hours.” Sherlock rutted against the table.  
John opened his denims and pulled them down over his arse. Due to his spread legs they stayed mid-thigh. John could see the plug now because he wore no boxers. Of course, he didn't. He touched it and pushed making Sherlock keen and rut some more.  
“You really are very, very whorish. No pants. Unbelievable. So, if you can't behave, you have to be made. First lesson starts right now.” He got a humbler and pulled his testicles from his body until he was able to close the thing around them. Sherlock had stilled completely. He knew perfectly well what was being done to him right now. He stood on his tiptoes and his cock hung free.  
“When I am done with you, you will be the most perfect compound's whore ever.” He once tweaked his balls and then left him right there. He listened to him panting while washing and cutting some strawberries. He also checked on his fingers and listened to the things he mumbled, but he didn't safe-word. Now and then he would wiggle his arse a bit and every single time John would approach him and tweak his balls.  
When he had chopped the strawberries and made some cream, too, he took off the humbler but tied a rope around his cock. He freed his legs and arms and made him stand. It worked rather well.  
“Will you behave?” He just grunted a reply. John pulled at the rope making him groan again.  
“Shake off your trousers.” He did that at least not wanting to stumble with the rope around his prick. He pulled him around a bit and he stumbled after him.  
“Lesson two is about to begin.” He made him sit on a chair and on the plug. He keened under the hood. John pulled his tied wrists between the chair's backside and slung a rope around them. He tied his ankles to the back of the chair.  
Then he got a wicked looking army knife and held the blade to his naked chest. He tensed.  
“I will be cutting a hole into the hood now. Don't twitch.” He didn't. But John was a bit too excited and shredded the hood.  
“Bloody hell!” He cursed and Sherlock laughed and shook in his bindings.  
“Oh, as something like this never happened to you before, didn't it? Fuck!” He removed the thing from his head and pulled the rope around his prick at the same time.  
“Ow ...” But he still laughed.  
“Lesson three then.” He let go of the rope and returned with a head harness including an o-gag. So, at first, he forced his mouth open by digging his fingers into his jaw. He buckled it tight. He pulled the harness up and over his head. The straps went around his nose and met on his head. Another strap was closed below his chin holding the metal ring tight.  
Now Sherlock gurgled and hiccupped. Spit flew down his chin and dropped on his chest.  
“You are disgusting! I don't want to watch you drool while I am having dessert.” He got a smaller plug with a magnetic end and shoved it through the ring into his mouth. It clung to the ring and Sherlock wasn't able to push it out. He looked surprised; he really did.  
John petted his cheek.  
“I did some research on the topic.” Sherlock just moaned when John started to eat the strawberries and licked some cream off the spoon. When he was almost done, he threw some cream on his naked chest and nipples. He bent forward and licked it off. Sherlock wailed in his bonds. His cock kept leaking and he started to shift on the chair.  
Now he smeared some cream on his cock and knelt in front of him. He sucked him in to the hilt and slurped it off in one go. Sherlock screamed and shook and John pulled the rope again to stop him from orgasm. He yanked at the ropes but couldn't get free.  
“I think it's time for a treat.” He filled a bowl with strawberries and cream and set it on the table. He took the head-harness off. Instead he blindfolded him with a black leather cloth.  
He fed him the fruit and cream and Sherlock greedily ate them. He kissed him when he was done and Sherlock was very pliable.  
“And now I am going to have my way with you.” He roughly whispered making him shiver. He undid the ropes except for the ones around his wrists and cock. He also left the blindfold. He led him into his bedroom.  
“Kneel on my bed chest down.” He instantly obeyed knowing what was to come. John took the rope around his cock away and carefully pulled out the plug. Sherlock's body insisted on keeping it and pulling it back in but John pulled it out with a wet plop. He looked at an open hole clenching around nothing.  
He pulled Sherlock up by his tied wrists. Then he dug his free hand into his hair and pulled.  
“You know what I want you to do, don't you?” He just opened his mouth and John shoved the plug into him. He sucked it all the way in and licked and slurped until it was clean. John threw it off the bed.  
“Well done.” He only whispered looking at the exhausted form which was Sherlock. He nearly had him. Now he wanted to have him. He untied his wrists and massaged them.  
“Get on your hands and knees.” John lined up behind him and saw his head hanging down. He grabbed his hips and started to kiss his cheeks. He sucked some bruises into them and then parted his cheeks. He listened to the noises he made.  
He once licked over his clenching hole and Sherlock couldn't hold himself up. He was on his elbows by now. John felt under him and found him hard. It was time. He got out of his own trousers and got off the cock-ring he wore. He hadn't wanted to come too early. He caressed his back and licked some more until he finally breached him.  
Sherlock's hands hit the mattress and he sobbed.  
“Please! Oh God, please! I can't, it's too much! Please, John, Captain, please!” John started to move. It seemed he found the right angle rather quickly because Sherlock bit into the sheet and was shaking all over. John increased the speed and fucked him into next week.  
He pulled him closer and reached around him for his prick. He pumped him fast. When he felt his balls pull up, he covered his mouth and nose. Sherlock came like a volcano, a hurricane, a tornado in John's arms. John kept fucking him, fucking his weak body until he came deep inside him.  
They both fell forward and didn't move. John was in heaven.

***

Sherlock had blacked out for a minute when John had covered both his mouth and nose. Now he felt the wet sheets beneath him and John on top of him and still in him. He was sore like fuck but it had been intense. John had been brilliant; he hadn't expected a game like this. He had made him beg, use his rank. Fuck. He grinned and groaned when he tried to move.  
“John?” John only moved a little bit. Not enough.  
“John, please. Get off and out of me.” John's head came up.  
“Oh God, Sherlock. I am sorry.” He slowly pulled out of him and fell to the side. Sherlock stayed where he was. He only turned his head to face John.  
He could feel his hand move over his bum and back. He smiled at him.  
“Thank you.” John smiled back. This was dreamy John again. Captain John was gone. But he would be back. Sherlock was sure.


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and John play wildly with each other. They do everything the textbook has to offer and perhaps even a bit more.  
Sherlock goes and searches through Denis flat because he knows more than the police does.  
Greg calls Sherlock into Scotland Yard for some more investigations. John comes along.  
John finds out Greg has a boy-friend. Sherlock gets to meet him.

After some minutes Sherlock stood and his bones cracked. He slumped under the shower and cleaned himself very thorough.  
John in the meantime changed the sheets and collected the toys to clean them later. When he heard Sherlock walk out of the shower, it was his turn.  
This time Sherlock had brought his own comfy clothes. Not that he had some before. He had only bought them a few days ago. He saw that John had cleaned away everything. He poured them wine and a drink and looked for his ashtray. It already sat on the windowsill and was cleaned, too. He opened the window and smoked. He closed his eyes in delight and let the aftermath wash over him when he sipped the whiskey.  
He could hear John rummage in the bedroom getting dressed. He finished his smoke and turned around to hand him his drink.  
John approached him and his pupils still were dilated. He looked like being high. Sherlock knew that look.  
“How are you doing? Are you all right?” John asked him looking up. Sherlock smiled.  
“I am fine. No, more than just fine. I feel like being re-born. You were brilliant.” John brightly smiled.  
“So were you. I never thought you could switch like this.”  
“You were very convincing, Captain.” John smiled wickedly.  
“I learnt from the best.” They both sat on the sofa and Sherlock reached out for him. He tenderly caressed his thigh.  
“You know, I have one certain fantasy.” John shifted on the sofa and felt his cock twitch. He was ready. Again. He wasn't that young anymore. It must be Sherlock then. Perhaps his cum was special and he doped him with it?  
“What would you like me to do?” Sherlock licked his lips and had another sip.  
“I want to tie your upper body into a rope harness. Your head, too. Only ropes. Also, your cock. Then I want you to ride me. I want you to fuck yourself on my cock. Perhaps I will hit you in the process. Maybe you will be having a rod in your penis. Anyway, you will fuck yourself on my cock. For a very long time because I won't let you come.” He sipped some more and John just stared at him.  
“After I have come, I need to come back to full strength, of course. So, in the meantime you will be on your front in a beautiful hog-tie. Waiting for me to return to you. You may expect some beating or candle burnings or whatever wonderful things I can think of.” Now John downed his drink.  
“Of course, I will plug my cum into your beautiful arse.”  
“Fuck ...” John palmed himself but Sherlock pushed his hand off.  
“No, John. This is mine to touch for the rest of today and tomorrow. Understood?” The game was on again. The heat shot through John and he just nodded.  
“Yes, Sir.”  
“Perfect.”  
John's mobile rang and he looked at the caller ID. He swallowed and answered the call.  
“Greg, hallo.” Sherlock looked at him digging his fingers painfully into his thigh.  
“John, I have been told that Mr Holmes is with you?” John wondered who told him.  
“Yes, he is. Why?”  
“We might have a lead. I want him to come over and have a look at some pictures. Perhaps he recognises someone and can identify a possible suspect.”  
“I will tell him.”  
“Thank you, John. I am in my office. Just come along.” They ended the call and John looked at Sherlock. He told him what Greg had said. He got up at once.  
“We need to go at once, John.”  
“We? You want me to come?” Sherlock looked stricken.  
“I would like you to come, yes. Please, John?” John took his hand.  
“Of course, I am coming, Sherlock. You don't have to beg for it. I just wasn't sure if you wanted me there.”  
“I couldn't do this without you.” He got into his denims and only then remembered his torn shirt. He held it up and had a closer look.  
“Let me see.” John took the shirt and looked it up and down. “It's not torn, just the buttons are off. I sew them back on and you can wear it.”  
“You would do this?” John shrugged.  
“Of course. Let's look for the buttons.” They both were on their knees and collected them. John got his sewing-kit and repaired the shirt. Sherlock looked at him having another drink.  
“I would just have it thrown away.” John didn't look up.  
“I know.” Sherlock pecked a kiss on his head making him smile. Then he had another fag.  
“Here you go.” John handed over the shirt and Sherlock got it on.  
“Thank you. Really.” John smiled and got dressed, too. He was handed the black jumper and he put it on. It fit perfectly and looked great. He got smacked on his bum.  
“Sexy. I have to be on watch.” John looked at him.  
“Why?”  
“To not get you snatched away from me. Looking utterly sexy like this.” John blushed.  
“I don't stray.” He only whispered. They stared into each other's eyes. No word was said between them but they knew there was more.  
Sherlock hailed a cab again and John just accepted it. They drove off to see Greg and John called him to tell him they were on their way.  
John knew his way and Sherlock just followed him into the building and up to Greg's office. Several pair of eyes followed them but Sherlock's eyes were fixed on John.  
“Who is that with our cute little doctor there?” Sergeant Donovan wondered.  
“I saw them together when the taller one looked at the corpse.” Anderson told her.  
“I didn't think he was gay though.” She said.  
“Well, you never know.” Anderson added. John shot them daggers and slammed the door behind him.  
“John, Mr Holmes, thanks for coming in on such short notice.”  
“If I can help find that scum you may call me at any time.” Sherlock told him and Greg nodded.  
“Very well, Mr Holmes. Please sit down over there. I have already laid out some pictures for you to look at.” Sherlock threw his coat on the floor and sat down. John sighed and picked it up. He hung it on the rack beside Greg's door. Then he shed his own jacket making Greg look. John raised his eyebrows and just got a thumbs up from him. Then they stood on either side of Sherlock who looked through the pictures rather quickly. The second round he took some more time and sorted some out. He did that several times until two pictures were left.  
“These two. I know this man business-wise. He is one of my clients.”  
“Clients?” Greg asked and was handed a business-card. He read it and then looked at him. Sherlock just stared back. Then he cleared his throat and put it on his desk. He shot John a look but he wouldn't look at him at all. Instead he eyed Sherlock's back.  
“Well. And the woman?” Sherlock picked up the picture.  
“I have seen her, too. She was with Dennis. She was one of his clients.”  
“You knew about each other's clients?” He shrugged.  
“Yes, sometimes we shared experiences or asked the other for advice when something was new or different or just weird.”  
“So, these two were weird somehow?” Sherlock leant back in his chair and looked at Greg.  
“I need to think about it. I will be back tomorrow with more information.” Greg looked him into the eyes and then just nodded.  
“OK. Fine. Please come back tomorrow morning, if possible.” Sherlock stood and grabbed his coat from the rack.  
“John, are you coming?” He didn't turn around when asking and John was just about to follow him when Greg stopped him.  
“John, please, just a second?” John nodded.  
“I will be right with you, Sherlock.” He nodded and slammed the door behind him. John slowly exhaled and turned his attention back on Greg.  
“What is this with you two?” John started the pacing thing which made Greg crazy, but he didn't say a word. He just let him.  
“I went to see him. Business-wise. I am, was, one of his clients.” Greg fell back on his chair.  
“You? John! What … But ...” John sadly smiled.  
“Yes, me, Greg. Yes, I like to be manhandled. I like pain and things. Shocked?”  
“A little bit, I have to admit it. If I ever had known I could have … Well, never mind.” Now John looked at him and saw that his cheeks were flushed.  
“Wait, you ...” He sighed and nodded.  
“Yes, I am. I even have a boyfriend. That's why I need to talk to you. Urgently. But not now. Go after him. Meet me tomorrow evening in our pub.” John nodded and took his jacket.  
“I will be there at five.”  
“See you then, John.”  
John hurried after Sherlock and found him outside smoking.  
“You left your watch.” Sherlock smiled and dropped his cigarette.  
“He is no threat. He has a boyfriend.”  
“How do you know?”  
“Bracelet. He is his sub.” John stared wide-eyed at him.  
“Well, how many hours do we have left?” Without even looking at his watch Sherlock said.  
“Six. Can we go home again?” John nodded and Sherlock already yelled for a taxi. They drove home and picked up breakfast from a nearby café.  
They sat at the kitchen table and John didn't know what to say. Sherlock sat there quietly and devoured his breakfast. John didn't urge him and just waited. When he was done, he leant back on his chair.  
“I don't want to leave you but I have to. I have my first client at four and that one is followed by a rather tight schedule, I am afraid. But I could be back on Friday morning for the weekend.”  
“I wish you could stay but I know you have to leave. I would love to see you again next Friday. I will be home around noon because I am having a late shift.”  
“I will eat properly in the meantime.”  
“I hope so.” They smiled at each other.  
“I will go back to see the DI tomorrow morning between two clients. I need to talk to him some more. I will give you a call when I have the time.”  
“Now that this is settled. What are we going to do with the five hours we have still left?” Sherlock grinned.  
“I am having some ideas.”  
“Really?”  
“Oh yes.”  
A few minutes later he had undressed John. He had tied his wrists and arms. A plug stuck in his arse and then he tied his ankles, knees, and thighs, too. He pulled him up and used the head-harness on him now only with a ball-gag. Then he pushed up his legs and connected his ankles with his wrists as high up as he could make him bend. He hooked a leash on his head-harness and led this down to his wrists. John drooled and groaned but took it. His balls were tied, too, and connected to his ankles. He had to hold his position or he would pull his balls. Same with his cock which was pulled back between his legs and tied to his wrists.  
He was throbbing. He felt the pain. He felt the pleasure writhing on the floor. He sobbed and drooled.  
Then he made noises when he saw Sherlock light a candle. The wax dropped on his cheek and he yelled. The next drop hit his balls and he screamed. He didn't safe-word, this was too good. He dribbled some wax on his soles, too. Then he returned to his balls and cheeks.  
Then he cleared the coffee table and heaved John up by the ropes. He carried him over making him scream. He placed him on the little table and had a look. Then he adjusted the leash leading from his head to his wrists. He pulled some more so his head came completely up. His breathing was restricted by now and he had problems breathing properly.  
Then he stepped up in front of John and opened his denims. He pulled out his prick and stroked himself to full hardness. He was leaking and Sherlock moved his cock over John's face and hair and neck smearing his cum all over him.  
Next he pulled out the plug and took a bigger one which was rubbing over his prostate when Sherlock switched it to a higher setting. At once John started to wiggle on the table and his nostrils were wide open.  
Sherlock was pleased with himself; John could see that. He had that grin on his face.  
“Would you like to come, too, slut?” John grunted and drooled.  
“If I let you come, I need to change the rope around your cock against something else. Agreed?” John gurgled his consent.  
“Very well. I am pleased.” He removed the rope from around his prick and pulled it back out front. Now it was pressed on the table and John kept sobbing.  
“And now the exchange.” He hooked something into his nostrils and pulled it up. It got connected to his harness and it made his eyes water. It was a wicked pain and forced him to hold his head absolutely still.  
“My little piggy slut!” John furiously blushed. Sherlock started to fuck his own hand right in front of his face.  
“Rut, pig, rut!” He panted. John moved his hips and pressed down without hurting himself too much. Sherlock slapped him with his prick. Again, and again. Finally, John just gave in and bucked. Then he screamed and moved his head. He screamed more and came violently. His eyes were wide open. Sherlock had stilled and stared into his eyes. He came right in his face, on his hair, shoulders, everywhere.  
But he kept fisting himself, he wasn't done. He was still semi-hard.  
“Grunt, slut. Be my pig and grunt for me. I want to hear you! Or squeak! Whatever! Just be my pig!” John blushed again but started to grunt. Sherlock looked at him and pulled his penis. Then he tweaked John's balls making him squeak several times.  
He grabbed his hips from behind and started to move him over the coffee table. He rutted against him.  
“Is my little pig ready again? Are you hard for me?” He reached under him and found him hard. He pushed him back down and kept rutting.  
“Grunt for me! I can't hear you!” John grunted desperately and Sherlock could hear he was out of breath. But his fingers weren't crossed. He let go of his hips and fisted his cock again. He came on his back this time. Then he smacked his cheeks and made him come, too.  
He rested for only half a minute. Then he cut off the ropes between ankles and wrists. John shook. He pulled him off the little table but held him up and over it removing the ball-gag.  
“Lick the table, pig-slut.” John sobbed but licked until he was done. Then Sherlock shoved his cock into his mouth and got it cleaned, too. Then he took the head-harness off and placed John on the floor. He just closed his eyes listening to Sherlock who went into the bathroom.  
He could hear the water run and he smelled strawberries. John floated dreamily and felt good. He was a little pig rolling around on a muddy ground, covered in cum. Pig-slut, that was what he was called. He didn't even notice the ropes being cut off.  
He only woke when he was lowered into the hot water. He shivered. This was good.  
“Oh God, this is good. Thank you.” He slumped and Sherlock sat on the edge watching him.  
“I went a bit too far right now, I think.” John opened his eyes.  
“I have a safe-word and if it's unbearable, I will use it. I promised.”  
“I would like to switch again.” They looked at each other.  
”Dish something up.”  
“Friday?” John asked lazily.  
“Friday.” Sherlock nodded and stood.  
“I have to go now. Are you really all right?” John nodded.  
“Yes, I am. Don't worry. Please tell me about your visit to Greg, OK?”  
“I will. See you, John.” He kissed him and then left.  
“See you, Sherlock.” John murmured listening to the door being closed. He stayed in the bath for some time and then just dressed into a pair of pyjamas and went to bed. He was done.

***

Sherlock didn't go home. Instead he drove over to Denis flat. He had a key. He only didn't tell. He opened the door and could still smell him. Of course, the police had been all over the place after he had told them who he was. But still. He could feel him.  
He grit his teeth and walked into his bedroom. The bed was used but only by him. Sherlock knew. He pulled away the rug and pulled up the loose floorboard. The police hadn't found his hiding-place. But somebody else had. It was empty.  
He probably told them while being tortured. Sherlock knew this had been his safety-net and now it was gone. And he was dead. Whom did he meet and why did they kill him?  
He walked back into the living-room and looked at the picture. It showed both Denis and him a few years back in Berlin. They were laughing into the camera. Sherlock had the same picture in his flat. Denis had been his best friend. He wanted to find the people who killed him. And then he would take them into his studio. His private studio.  
He sighed and left. He drove home and changed into his business clothes. His next client was due in half an hour. It was an elderly man who liked to be beaten and fucked by a fucking-machine. He knew him for years and it would be no hardship to make him happy.  
When he was finally done for the day, he sent a text to John but got no reply. He was probably asleep. He smiled thinking of John. He missed him already. Still smiling he went to bed.  
The next morning, he hung the first client from the ceiling and had him suck him off which was a rather nice start into the day. And since he was in a very good mood, he beat him with a cane, too, without charging him extra. The guy was excited and made the next appointment right after their session.  
His second client liked to be humiliated. He made him sit on a special chair which had a huge dildo attached to it. He forced him down and he yelped. He tied his arms with leather belts to the chair's backside and his neck was buckled to it, too.  
“I have something made entirely for you. Are you curious?” He nodded.  
“Yes, Sir, I am curious.” He showed him a metal rod.  
“This is a stainless-steel rod which goes right into your prick. Let's see if it's the right size.” The man panted and watched him carefully insert it. He already moaned and shifted. At once Sherlock tied his legs to the chair.  
“I think we can use the next size, don't you?” He smiled down on him.  
“Yes, Sir, please do so.” He pulled it out and knew he liked it. He inserted the next one and knew it was perfect. Then he attached the hose leading up into a container sitting above his head. From there a larger tube hung loose. The man's eyes widened and he looked at Sherlock.  
“No, Sir. You can't, please, no.”  
“But I can. You pay me for doing these things to you. And I can't hear your safe-word, can I?” There was no answer given.  
“Can I?” He yelled at him.  
“No, Sir!” Sherlock nodded and proceeded. He used a leather head-harness and attached it to the chair so his head was bent backwards a bit. Then he made him drink a lot of water. He also added some pills to increase his need to urinate. He had him drink a litre very slowly. He didn't want him to suffer cramps. Then he gagged him and waited by his side. He smoked.  
“Do you feel the need to let go already?” The man nodded and sobbed.  
“Then go!” Sherlock stood and pressed on his bladder which was full. He could feel it. He jerked away from his touch but since he was both tied and nailed to the chair, he couldn't move away from him.  
And then he pissed. Sherlock watched the yellow fluid move through the tube. It was quite a lot which made it upwards into the container.  
“Well done, slut. Next round.” He opened the zip on his leather gag and shoved a tube through. He clipped it over his head and poured the fluid into the plastic funnel on top.  
“Suck!” He sucked. His muscles moved and he kept sucking until the bottle was empty. This time it had been coke in a one and a half litre bottle. He pulled out the tube and closed the zip. He looked at him.  
“Whenever you are ready, slut.” This time it didn't take long until he had to let go again. Both of them watched the fluid move upwards into the container. It was filled rather fast.  
“I think another load and we can start.” Sherlock rubbed his hands looking at the man. He was paid a huge amount for doing these things. That's why he had invested some money in this construction and it had been worth it. The man was extremely excited and aroused by the prospect of being forced to drink his own urine. Again, and again.  
He started the third round. Apple-juice with water. In went the tube and he sucked obediently until the bottle was empty. Sherlock already pressed his bladder while he was sucking. It worked perfectly. They looked up and found the container almost full to the brim.  
“Well, now, I think we can start the cycle.” The man started to move and shake his head but he didn't safe-word. He still pissed and couldn't stop. His eyes were wet and he was almost ready. Sherlock took off the leather gag with the zip. Instead he took the new thing he had bought. It looked more like something out of a clinic and that's what it was supposed to look like. He knew what his client feared. Doctors and clinics. Perhaps next time he should wear a white coat?  
He pushed his head back up. He pressed his fingers into his jaw and forced his mouth open. He inserted the white plastic cylinder. The outside part was almost looking like a pacifier and was pressed tight on his mouth and lips when being buckled by white leather straps behind his head. Now Sherlock removed the stainless-steel screw in the middle and attached the hose which was hanging from the container. It was screwed tight, too. The man almost cross-eyed.  
“Fast or slow, slut? Hm?” Sherlock looked up and put his fingers on the container.  
“I think slow is nice. You have to enjoy it flowing back into you. It's still warm. I can feel it.” The man's eyes were wide open when he watched the yellow fluid run down the hose leading to his mouth.  
When he started to shake his head, Sherlock fisted his hair and held him in position.  
“Almost there. Swallow, slut. Swallow your own piss. Go on!” And swallow he did. He didn't choke, he didn't gag. He just swallowed everything which came down the hose. He shifted on the chair and tried to buck.  
When the container was empty, Sherlock praised him.  
“Very good, slut. You really did impress me. No choking, no gagging, no throwing up. Perfect slut! And a perfect performance calls for a reward.” Now he looked up at him and Sherlock switched something on. The huge plug started to rotate into him. It had a certain rhythm and changing pattern. He was hard. He needed to come and he needed to pee again.  
Sherlock had taken the second screw off and attached a second tube. He poured more water into him. And more coke. He closed that one again. He saw that he was close. He carefully moved the rod up and down. He screamed and trembled badly. He closed his eyes tightly and then he came. He shot his cum through the rod, too. And then he pissed for minutes. Sherlock grinned.  
“I think you just added something to the mix. Interesting.” Now he cried. Sherlock let the dildo run but switched it to a lower setting. He was steadily fucked and forced to orgasm again very soon.  
The cycle was working perfectly fine. Sherlock settled down again and smoked. He watched another round of pee and cum flow into him. By now he almost greedily sucked. After he had come for the third time, he slumped and was barely able to suck and swallow.  
Sherlock lifted up his chin and saw it was enough. He stopped the flow and took the gag away. He carefully pulled out the rod and checked his cock. He untied him and helped him up and off the plug. It made a wet plop and he swayed on the spot.  
“There is a tooth-brush and everything you might need in the bathroom.”  
“Thank you.” After he had disappeared behind the door, Sherlock checked his watch. Perfect timing. He could see him out and be on time for the DI. Sherlock once palmed his crotch but refrained from wanking. This had aroused him more than he liked to admit.  
His client came back out fully dressed again. He took his credit card and thanked him. Then he was given a huge tip which surprised him.  
“You were amazing! Please, take this and have a good time yourself. I'll phone you to make the next appointment.”  
“Thank you, Sir.” He saw him out and changed his clothes. He went for casual and nothing too fancy. He hailed a cab and drove to the Yard. He entered the building and knocked on his door.  
“Come in.” He opened the door and shrugged out of his coat. This time he hung it up properly. John wasn't here to pick it up and he wasn't sure if this DI would do it even though he subbed.  
“Hallo, DI Lestrade. I promised to think about the matter. I also went back to my friend's flat.”  
“I see.” Nothing more.  
“I need to know if you found his hiding-place under the floorboard.”  
“No, we did not.”  
“Well, then someone else did.”  
“Why would that be important?”  
“Because of what he did.”  
“I thought he, well ...” Sherlock sadly smiled.  
“Come on, say it, Detective Inspector. Because he sold his soul and sometimes his body, just as I do.”  
“I am sorry, I didn't mean to be rude.”  
“I know. But you see, he never earned enough to have a good life like me. He was stupid, he made mistakes in his younger years he had to pay for. So, he worked for somebody else.”  
“Somebody else?” Sherlock nodded.  
“You should know best.”  
“Why should I know best?” Right then the door was opened and a tall man stepped inside. Clad in a posh three-piece suit and carrying an umbrella.  
“Because he was working for me, Greg.” Greg stared up at him. Then the man turned around and eyed his visitor. His eyes became warm and it was a look which was normally reserved for Greg.  
“Sherlock, I am so sorry. I just heard because I have been abroad for weeks.”  
“Mycroft. I need your help.”  
“You know each other?”  
“He is my brother.” Mycroft said. He once carded through his hair and then turned his attention to Greg. He dropped his umbrella and walked around his desk. He held out his hand and pulled him up.  
“Give us a kiss.” Greg tilted his head and was snogged senseless. He spread his legs to give Mycroft access at once without being told. Well trained already, Sherlock thought.  
“My house at five today.”  
“No, My, he is meeting someone right then.” Greg looked at him and slowly shook his head. Mycroft's head shot back to Sherlock and then to Greg.  
“Meet someone? Whom? Sherlock?”  
“He will be meeting my boyfriend.” And there he had said it. Boyfriend.  
“You have a boyfriend. Fuck, I was away only a few weeks. What else has happened?”  
“Just let him go and see him. He will come to your place right after.” Mycroft tenderly moved his palm over his face.  
“Can't wait. Give me a call and I have you picked up.” Greg nodded and kissed his hand.  
“Mycroft, I need to talk to you, too.”  
“Early breakfast on Saturday?” He suggested and Sherlock nodded.  
“Perfect. Later I will be spending the weekend with John.”  
“Your boyfriend, his name is John. What is he doing?”  
“Greg can tell you; he knows him quite well. I will be off then. My, tell him about Denis. Greg, tell him about John. See you!” He grabbed his coat and gone he was.


	6. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock meets up with his brother to talk about his murdered partner, Denis.
> 
> John and Sherlock meet at John's again and this time something goes wrong. John doesn't see and Sherlock doesn't use their safeword.
> 
> Sherlock gives Greg some relationship advice.
> 
> He also follows some leads regarding the murderous and torturous crimes. He shouldn't have gone alone.

After Sherlock had left, Mycroft sat in front of Greg's desk.  
“Did you miss me just a little bit?” Greg blushed.  
“I missed you every fucking minute!” Mycroft smiled.  
“Did you behave?”  
“I did not touch myself.”  
“I can't wait for tonight.” Greg smiled.  
“It's good to have you back.” Now Mycroft leant back and looked at Greg who just handed over the folder. Mycroft looked at everything and at once knew what his brother must have felt.  
“We will talk about this at home, not here.” He sighed. Greg poured him a drink and placed an ashtray on the desk.  
“Now please tell me about that John. Did you introduce them?”  
“No, I have never met your brother. The first time I saw him was in the morgue when he identified his friend.”  
“Oh God ...” Mycroft swallowed and closed his eyes.  
“John, Dr John Watson, former army-doctor, rank of a Captain, back invalided from Afghanistan. He often looks at special cases for me. Or more on the bodies. He has seen a lot and knows about torture and wounds. I like him, you know? He is a friendly, nice guy. He is warm and he will be good for your brother as far as I can see already.”  
“But how did they meet?” Greg shrugged.  
“He told me he booked an appointment with your brother. He was bored. He once told me that nothing happened to him.”  
“I see. And then my little brother happened.” Greg chuckled.  
“Yes, I think so.”  
“Well, Greg. Go and meet him in the pub of yours. Have a drink, talk to him and then come home to me.” They locked eyes. Then Mycroft reached into his bag and retrieved a plug. He threw it over and Greg caught it. It was made of glass and had many nubs.  
“Insert this after I have left. I want to pull it out when you are coming home.”  
“Yes, Sir.” Mycroft waved good-bye and Greg sat dazed behind his desk for several minutes. Then his mobile dinged. He checked it.

_“Why aren't you plugged yet?”  
MH_

He grinned and texted back.

_“On my way, Sir!”  
GL_

***

Sherlock went back to work. His next appointment was due in half an hour and he still had to change. The next one wanted military experience and he had bought a Russian uniform including coat and hat. He sat behind a desk in his studio when his client approached.  
“Sit.” Sherlock ordered and the man sat on the chair in front of his desk. Sherlock just watched the man getting restless. He didn't say a word. It took five minutes until the man broke.  
“Please, Sir ...”  
“It's Colonel, bug!”  
“Please, Colonel. I was misbehaving. Again.”  
“Again. Even though I told you not to.”  
“Yes. I am sorry and awaiting my punishment. Colonel, Sir.” Now Sherlock stood.  
“Hm, my tiny bug. Tell me what you did, so I can think of a proper punishment.”  
“I watched again.” Sherlock leant down.  
“Watched what? Be precise!” He yelled into his face.  
“I watched through the peep-hole I drilled into the wall. I watched the men in the changing-room and showers.” Sherlock had to hide his grin. This was almost cute.  
“That's fairly illegal and I don't approve at all. You know that, don't you?”  
“Yes, I do, Colonel, Sir. And I am so very sorry. Please, punish me properly!” He pleadingly looked up at him. He was crying already.  
“Undress. Then kneel. Hands on your nape. Don't make me wait.” He hurried to comply. Sherlock had to admit he had a wonderful body. He liked to look at him. But he was nothing compared to John.  
He stepped behind him and let his rough coat move over his skin. He shivered and hunched. He got a pair of shackles out of his coat and cuffed his wrists on his back.  
“Turn around.” He did that, too.  
“Lick my boots.” He almost threw himself on Sherlock's boots with which he had walked through the little garden on purpose just yesterday. When he was done with the first, he switched to the other when Sherlock nudged him.  
“Very well done, bug.” He praised and his cock twitched.  
“But this wasn't the punishment. This was just necessary.” He lowered a chain from the ceiling and hooked his shackles to it. He pulled it up until he stood all bent over.  
“I want you to count. I want you to thank me. I want to admit your bad behaviour. And I want you to beg for more. Understood?”  
“Yes, Colonel.” Sherlock got the cane and touched his prick. He twitched and leaked. He only took his hat off but left the coat on.  
He hit him on his cheek very hard. At once there was a welt forming and he screamed once. Then he stuttered:  
“One. Thank you, Colonel. I did wrong. Please may I have more?”  
“Why, of course you may!” And he hit him again. He repeated this until he had criss-crossed the welts and they were bleeding. He poured cold water over the welts. Next he shoved a ginger root into his arse and pressed his cheeks together. The man howled but still stood on his feet. He could take a lot and he liked it. He was leaking. Sherlock changed to a prod which shot electricity through his body. He touched his prick with it making him scream and yell for minutes until he came. He carefully lowered him down and took off the shackles. The man knelt on the floor and shook. Then he looked up all smiling.  
“You are fucking brilliant, man. Thanks. Bathroom as usual?”  
“Sure. Will you manage?” He nodded and swayed over. He had already placed his card on the desk and Sherlock charged his fee. He placed the card on his wallet and waited for him to come back. He smoked a cigarette and had his feet on the desk.  
The man left the bath and got dressed.  
“Thanks, Mr Holmes. I appreciate your services.”  
“Thank you.” They nodded and he left. Sherlock checked his watch. He had one hour until his last client would arrive. He took his mobile and texted John.

_“I know you must be with Greg right now. But I just wanted to let you know that I can't wait for the weekend.”  
SH_

He smiled and wondered about John and Greg together. This Greg must be a good one when his brother was with him.  
He sighed and walked over into his office where he kept the data of his clients. He had another look at the next client. It was a simple one to finish his day. Just diaper play and some caning. He was a middle-aged man who was easy to amuse. He set up the baby-play room and changed into something comfy.  
The man was excited already when he arrived. Sherlock made him undress and climb up on the table where he put the diaper on him. It was so big he wasn't able to close his thighs. Next he had him step into a one-piece pyjama which he zipped up on his back. There was a rather large crib in this room and the man climbed inside face down. Sherlock moved up the railing and cuffed his wrists and ankles to the sides. Then he shoved an oversized pacifier into his mouth and buckled it behind his head. At last came the night cap which he criss-crossed around his neck and tied into a nice bow on his nape.  
“Did my baby eat tonight?” He shook his head and he took off the pacifier. He turned his head to the side. Then he made him drink sweetened tea out of a bottle on which he sucked eagerly. Then he gave him very mushy porridge into which a laxative was added. He slurped that up, too. The pacifier went back in and Sherlock sat in the rocking chair beside the crib after he had pulled the blanket up to his chin and added the teddy bear. He knew it would take about fifteen minutes for the laxative to do its work.  
He watched him squirm under the blanket. He rattled the railings and groaned behind the gag. Sherlock stood and looked down.  
“What's wrong, baby-boy?” He crooned and moved his fingers over his cheek. He desperately moved his head from left to right and his eyes were open wide.  
“Have you made a mess?” He nodded. Sherlock pulled off the blanket and made a face.  
“Yes, I can smell it. Oh my, aren't you disgusting. Have you done both?” Now he shook his head. Sherlock moved the blanket back up.  
“Then I will wait a bit for it to happen. Otherwise I have to change you twice. And I hate to do this ugly business, you know that.” He nodded.  
“Go on then! Or do you need help?” He nodded again. Sherlock pressed on his bladder and he keened. But he didn't piss. Sherlock filled a bottle with coke and shoved it into his mouth. He sucked it empty and belched loudly.  
“Good boy!” Sherlock praised and put the pacifier back in. He waited for several minutes and smoked a cigarette. Then he saw his body tense and relax. His eyes were closed. Now he pissed. Sherlock pulled off the blanket and watched him soil himself. Now he shivered.  
Sherlock lowered the railing and pressed on his crotch covered by the diaper. He felt his pee and shit move underneath and pressed some more until he found his prick. He grabbed it through the nappy and pressed and pulled. The man screamed and came into the already soiled diaper. He cried and then he pissed again.  
Sherlock towered above him and tapped his foot on the floor.  
“Are you finally done?” He nodded and sobbed. He freed him and shoved him into the bath.  
“Use the special bin and clean yourself. The pacifier stays on. Punishment isn't over.” He pulled down the zip for him and let him go. He heard the water run and he came back after ten minutes. He still wore the gag and the hat.  
“Turn around. Show me your arse. Are you clean?” He nodded and turned around for him.  
“Back into your room!” He moved barefooted and hung his head. Then he tied his wrists with blue ribbons to the changing table. He pushed his legs apart and they got tied, too. He already shook.  
Sherlock slowly buckled open his belt and pulled it slowly through the loops.  
“Baby made a mess. Again. Baby needs to be punished. Hard. Again.” The man nodded and his head came up.  
Sherlock took a step back and aimed. He hit him on his bare arse with his leather belt. He screamed. Sherlock hit him on his arse, on his thighs and on his back until he came again against the changing table. He untied him and took away the gag. Then he made him lick his cum off the table.  
He had to help him back up after he was done. Sherlock was a bit worried. Had it been too much?  
“Are you all right? Are you dizzy?” But he shook his head.  
“No, I am just tired and a bit stressed out. I am all good. But could you please call me a cab?”  
“Sure thing.” He helped him getting dressed and made him drink a cup of coffee before he left.  
“Thank you.” Sherlock handed him his card back and he also generously tipped him.  
“Thank you.” He helped him into the cab, too. And then his day was finally over. He sighed and walked up into his flat which was right above his studio.  
He checked his mobile. Still no text from John. He must be having fun with Greg. He refrained from texting him again. Instead he prepared a bath with strawberry foam, took a bottle of wine and a glass, and buried himself deep into the hot water.  
He drank half the bottle and then got out. He dressed into his pyjamas and a tee and sat in front of his huge flat-screen watching some crap telly. His mobile dinged and he snatched it up. John.

“Have you had dinner?”  
JW

Of course not. He had clients. He worried his lips.

“No, not yet. Where are you?”  
SH

“Home. Buzzed. Alone.”  
JW

“But still you worry about my eating habits.”  
SH

“It's important. You are.”  
JW

“So are you. Go to bed.”  
SH

“Can't wait to see you again.”  
JW

“Me, too.”  
SH

Sherlock smiled and really got up to find something to eat. He didn't want take-away. That would be too much. But he found some frozen pizza he shoved into the microwave. It was better than nothing. Well, probably John would create a better pizza but John was at home, buzzed and probably asleep by now.  
He forced the thing down and had a cigarette and a drink. He checked his appointments for tomorrow. He had forced seven clients into the day. It would be hard but he would manage. And then he would have the fucking weekend off except for the early breakfast with his brother.  
He downed another drink. He needed to get up at eight tomorrow and his first client was due at ten. He would manage.  
Then he counted his tips. He got five hundred pounds and wondered what he should do with it. He could take John away for a weekend trip. See how they would fit together for a longer period of time. He stuck the money into his safe. Then he went to bed.

***

Sherlock had managed to survive the stressful week and was on his way to meet his brother early morning. He hailed a cab and rode to the Diogenes. The door was opened before he reached the top of the stairs. The butler knew him and he was invited inside. He knew the rules. No talking, no running. Just like his bloody childhood. He lopsidedly grinned and opened the door to his brother's rooms. Those were soundproofed, for a good reason, and he closed the door.  
“Good morning, little brother. How are you?”  
“Mycroft, good morning. Thanks for having me over. Is Greg still alive?” They laughed.  
“Yes, he is. He came home with a light buzz but it was adorable.”  
“Yes, I texted John and he admitted to be buzzed, too.”  
“Greg says he is a good one, John.”  
“Yes, he is. He takes good care of me.”  
“Does he?”  
“Yes, he does. He joined me when I had to identify Denis in the morgue. He was the one who had a look at him when he was brought in. Not a nice sight as you might have seen by now. He stayed with me. I cried on his shoulder and he let me. I went into shock and he took me home, his home. He told me I just crushed and rolled myself into a foetal position. He undressed me and brought me to bed.”  
“Where did you meet him?”  
“He came to see me in my studio. He told me he wanted to be distracted, that nothing happened to him.”  
“I see.”  
“No, you don't. After our session I asked him if he wanted to see me again. Privately. At his flat.”  
“And he agreed?”  
“Yes. We both knew there was something. When I saw him the first time, I just knew he was special.”  
“You are in love, Sherlock.” Shocked he looked up at his older brother.  
'”Yes, I think you are right. I am in love.”  
“I had a look into his files. He saved many lives. He is a good person. A good commanding officer. You are in good hands, Sherlock.”  
“What else can you tell me?” Now Mycroft leant back in his chair and looked at him.  
“Not much yet. I had a look into the files Greg brought home. I checked with the secret service and Interpol. There were several killings all over Europe which looked exactly the same way Denis was killed. I need to dig a bit deeper.”  
“Mycroft, please don't think me stupid. I bloody well know that Denis worked for you to earn some extra cash.” Now Mycroft bit his lips. He didn't know that his brother had known.  
“I wish you worked for me.”  
“You know I sometimes do.” Dirty work. Torture. Gathering information. Good money.  
“OK, Sherlock. I promise to gather everything for you. Let's eat now, please?” Sherlock smiled.  
“Let's then.” He eyed the different offerings and decided on pancakes with sugar and cinnamon. Then he had another one with cheese. And then a third one with chocolate. Mycroft watched him devouring the food. Then he had coffee and champagne.  
“Sherlock, he did change you. You ate a lot.”  
“He will be pleased when I tell him I ate. Yesterday I had a pizza.”  
“I am impressed, Sherlock. What are your plans for the weekend?”  
“I asked him for a switch again and told him to dish something up.”  
“Again?” Mycroft raised an eyebrow.  
“Yes, we once did it and he was extremely incentive. I liked it.”  
“But he does go under?” Sherlock laughed.  
“Oh yes, he does. He is beautiful when he does. He knows his limits and he loves pain.”  
“Here, have a smoke and then leave, little brother.”  
“Thank you, Mycroft. Have you left Greg behind all tied up again?” He just tilted his head.  
“What if?”  
“Don't do it. He can't cope but he won't tell you. He subs for you because he loves you and not because he really likes it.” Mycroft stared at him.  
“Are you serious, Sherlock?”  
“Absolutely. You need to talk to him. Urgently.”  
“I will. Thank you , Sherlock. Off you go now. Have fun.”

***

Sherlock went home to grab his backpack. He had wine and whiskey in it. And Belgian truffles he wanted to feed to John tonight. He whistled a tune when he hailed a cab again and drove over to John. He rang the bell and John yelled through his flat:  
“Just hold on a second, Sherlock!” Sherlock grinned. He heard him clutter in the kitchen and then hurry to the door. He ripped it open.  
“Come in. Make yourself comfortable. I need another minute.” He blew him a kiss and ran back into the kitchen. Sherlock closed the door and shed his coat. He thought for a second and then hung it up on the rack. He brought the wine into the kitchen and leant on the counter. He watched John stare into the oven.  
“What are you doing?”  
“Cake.” Sherlock didn't ask further. He just walked over to the windowsill where his ashtray sat. He opened the window and smoked. When he was finished, he leant on the sill and looked outside. Suddenly there was John hugging him from behind.  
He turned around.  
“John ...” He sheepishly smiled and John pulled him down and kissed him.  
“Sherlock, sorry for texting you buzzed.” Sherlock grinned.  
“No, it was cute.”  
“Cute?” Sherlock shrugged.  
“Yes?” Sherlock pulled him close covering his cheeks.  
“I missed you.”  
“I missed you, too.” They kissed and Sherlock finally relaxed. John felt the change in him and held him a bit apart.  
“You are exhausted. Have you eaten?” Sherlock nodded and just enjoyed being held by John.  
“Yes, I had a pizza yesterday evening and three pancakes this morning with my brother.”  
“That's good. But I still think you need some good cuddling.” Sherlock smiled.  
“That actually sounds right.” He sighed. John made him sit on the sofa and pulled him against his chest.  
“Relax. Close your eyes. Just be.” He whispered into his ear. John's arms were around his chest and he rested his head against his shoulder.  
John suckled on his neck, tenderly. He suckled his earlobe and everything he could reach. It took him about half an hour and he was back to normal. He turned around in John's arms and looked up at him. He smiled and John smiled, too.  
“Better now?” Sherlock nodded.  
“Yes, much better now.” Now he straddled John and slowly rutted against his groin. The oven clock dinged and John pushed him off.  
“I need to get the cake. We don't want it to get ruined.” Sherlock knelt on the sofa and watched him go into the kitchen.  
“No, we don't.” He smelled the cake and it was delicious. Now he straightened up some more to have a better view. He saw John taking the cake out and placed it on a plate on the table.  
Sherlock slowly came over and tried to stick his finger into the cake.  
“No!” John hit his hand with a wooden spoon.  
“Ow!” He pulled his hand back at once and looked at him.  
“Don't you dare!” Now he pouted.  
“But I want to try!” He reached out again. And got hit again.  
“Stop behaving like a brat!”  
“What?” He just stood there holding his hand to his chest as if it was falling off any minute. Now John grinned and dropped the wooden thing. He slowly approached him.  
“Brat!” His smile became more wicked and somehow dangerous. Sherlock knew the game was on but still he just had wanted to have a taste. He still eyed the cake.  
“You have to earn your piece of cake, Sherlock. Take your punishment as a good brat. Say you are sorry and you will get your piece.”  
“But I didn't do anything! This is not fair!” He made a few steps back but John just rushed after him and pushed. Sherlock stumbled backwards and swayed. John grabbed his waist and turned them both. He fell on the armchair, spread his legs, and had Sherlock hanging over his lap in a second. He sputtered.  
“No, John. Don't you dare!” He tried to get up but John pulled his wrist up to his shoulder-blade. He stilled because this was painful.  
“Stop bitching, brat!” He used his free hand to open Sherlock's trousers and pull them over his arse. They pooled around his ankles. John held his legs with his own so he couldn't kick. He adjusted his body on his lap so his cock hung between his legs and would get no friction at all.  
“Tell me you are sorry!” His head came up a little bit and he hissed:  
“I don't know what for!”  
“Well, well.” John said reaching under the cushion by his side. He took his second wrist up, too, and put the thick, military-style handcuffs around them. And then he started to spank him. He hit him several times on his cheeks and thighs.  
Sherlock whined and groaned. His arse was getting red very soon. John bit into his cheeks and parted them. He spit on his hole and rubbed his thumbs over it. Sherlock sobbed.  
John reached behind him again and retrieved a big plug. He held it in front of his face.  
“Suck, make it wet, bath it with your saliva because there won't be any lube.” Sherlock opened his mouth at once and started to work on it. John fucked his mouth with the huge thing. And when he thought it enough, he pulled it out, parted his cheeks again, spit into him several times and then pushed the thing into him.  
Sherlock bit into his lips and kept sobbing. John slowly worked it in, inch by inch, until it was fully seated. Then he kept hitting him some more. The last hit the plug making his head come up and exhale raggedly.  
“I am still waiting, Sherlock.” John rubbed his dark red cheeks.  
“I am sorry ...” He sobbed it out. John pressed on the plug.  
“Why?”  
“I am not sure ...” John hit him several times. Hard. And on the plug again.  
“Say again? I am not sure I got that right.” Now he started to tweak his balls and pull them.  
“I am sorry because I tried to get at your cake. I wasn't allowed because it would have destroyed the beautiful cake.”  
“And?” He sobbed again.  
“And because I behaved like a brat.”  
“That's right!” He kissed his cheeks now and felt him relax. Then he shoved him down on his knees and between his still spread legs.  
“To finish this, I want you to thank me for showing you how to behave properly and beg to suck me off.” Sherlock's cock twitched at the prospect and he licked his lips eyeing John's bulge. Then he locked eyes with him and straightened up.  
“John, I want to thank you for showing me how to behave properly and correctly in your household. I also want to do something nice for you and that's why I am begging for your cock in my mouth, Captain, Sir.” John's cock was trying to wiggle its way out of his trousers, he was sure. He licked his lips.  
“Well, Sherlock. Come on then and thank me.” Sherlock shuffled closer and lowered his head. He used his teeth to open the button followed by the zip. John was fucking impressed but not really surprised. He pulled his trousers down by the loops and John helped a bit by lifting up his hips. Today he wasn't wearing any boxers and his prick sprang free. Sherlock caught it between his lips and at once started to suck.  
John carded through his hair and hummed. When he was close, he fisted his hair and pulled him down. He came down his throat and made him swallow. After having coaxed the last drop out of John he licked him clean.  
John looked at his cock which was still leaking.  
“Would you like to come, too?” Sherlock nodded.  
“Yes, Captain, Sir, yes, please?” John stood and knelt beside him. He took his prick and held it.  
“Move, slut, use my hand to come.” Sherlock looked down and started to move his hips. The friction was much needed and it felt good. Very rough but also very good. Soon enough he was moaning again and sweating. He desperately pushed into John's hand and clenched around the plug in his arse.  
When John felt him still, he pressed his hand on his mouth and nose and pressed him backwards. His eyes became big and he came. Twice.  
John lowered him down on his side and took away the handcuffs. He didn't move but moaned a bit. Then he extracted the plug.  
“Stay down, I will be right back.” Sherlock muttered something into the rug but didn't move. John filled a bowl with warm water, got a towel and a wash-cloth. Also, some ointment for his arse. He washed him, cleaned him, and rolled him on his front. Then he massaged the ointment into his sore backside.  
“You are all limbs, you know that?” He mumbled something.  
“And you are too thin for your height. Perhaps you would like a piece of cake now?” There was no reply.  
“Sherlock?”  
Sherlock was gone. He rested on one arm and the other fisted the rug. John stroked over his body but he wasn't responsive. He was fast asleep. John pecked a kiss on his hip and then pulled the rug with Sherlock on top into his bedroom.  
He didn't wake when he was lifted up and onto the mattress. John rolled him on his side again and pulled up the duvet. He moved his hair out of his face. He should have seen earlier how exhausted he was. He should have just given him the cake. Whatever he wanted. He sighed quietly and left him.  
He watched some crap telly and had some tea. About three hours later he heard the toilet flush and the water run. He turned around and saw a very naked Sherlock walk over to him. He looked better now but also a bit sad. He stood beside the sofa.  
“I am sorry, John. I am boring. Perhaps I better leave now.” And he turned around picking up his clothes on the way. John was dumbstruck. He jumped up and ran after him.  
“No, Sherlock, please. I am sorry. I did not see how exhausted you were.” He touched his arm very carefully and Sherlock turned around again.  
“I could have safe-worded. I did not.”  
“Don't go away.” He got the bathrobe and made him dress into it.  
“Sit down.” They sat on the sofa and John took his hand.  
“I missed you so much, Sherlock. I was too blind to see how exhausted you were when you came over.”  
“I missed you, too. I thought you needed to play that's why I played.”  
“You know, perhaps we should do something entirely else today?” Sherlock shrugged.  
“Like what?” Sherlock had no idea what they could do. He only had his work, either in his studio or for his brother.  
“We could visit the zoo? Walk around a bit, feed some animals, relax in the sun?” Sherlock looked at John and considered it. Then he smiled.  
“Why not? I haven't been to the zoo for ages. Let's go!” He got dressed again and they donned their jackets. While Sherlock got dressed, John chopped some fruits and cut a bread to bring along. Sherlock looked at him when he came back with his jacket.  
“What's that? You want me to eat fruits and bread now?” John grinned.  
“No, it's for the animals. We can feed them.” Sherlock mumbled something which sounded a lot like “ordinary”, “boring” and “pedestrian” but he dutifully followed John into the tube and the zoo. John paid for their entrance and handed him the bags. Then he unfolded a little map and studied it. His tongue poked out and Sherlock came back to life.  
John liked this. He wouldn't spoil this. If John wanted to spend a fun time at the zoo, he would be by his side and do whatever was needed. Even ride on an elephant or camel.  
“The seals are going to be fed in fifteen minutes.” He hopefully looked up at Sherlock. And Sherlock saw happy John. He smiled and dared to embrace him. John moved up close and still smiled. Together they walked to find the seals. John was still holding the map. Sherlock had to admit that he liked this. A lot.  
They watched the seals and then they watched the polar bears. Now Sherlock had fun, too. He had pushed them first row and had even shoved children to the side. He wanted John to see everything. They got splashed when the bears jumped after the cabbage into the water but it was fun. The water glistened in their hair.  
When the show was over Sherlock looked at John.  
“When do I get to feed something?”  
“Let's go and find the elephants.” John led the way and now Sherlock's arm was around his shoulder. They stood facing the large animals and they trotted over to them sensing some snacks. A long trunk swooped over and almost touched Sherlock who moved to the side just in time. John laughed and handed him some bread.  
“Here, hand it over.” Sherlock took the bread and reached out. One elephant took it out of his hand and moved it up into his mouth. Sherlock was fascinated and kept watching. The biggest elephant now pushed a smaller one to the front who had gotten nothing yet. John eyed it and tried to give it a fruit. But both John's arm and the elephant's trunk were too short.  
“Climb on the wall, John. I will hold you.” John turned around.  
“It's not allowed.” Sherlock just sighed.  
“Don't be boring, John. Come on.” They checked their surroundings but there weren't any people right now. John climbed up and moved to the front being held by his belt. Now the elephant could reach him and took the fruits. It made noises afterwards, too, and the bigger one touched John, too. Sherlock pulled him back.  
“See? Not boring.” John just pulled him down for a kiss. They had never kissed in public before but it felt right. And good. And great. Sherlock then fed them the leftovers and got touched, too. They cleaned their hands under a faucet and walked on.  
They walked to see the gorillas next. They were divided only by water.  
“Why isn't there a glass window? Won't they just jump over?” Sherlock eyed the biggest one and he looked back. He was covered with a blanket and now came closer. Obviously a very curious one. Just like Sherlock, John thought.  
“They can't swim. They won't go into the water and try to cross it.”  
“I see. Perhaps one day one of them will try.” John didn't want to be here on that day.  
“Care for a coffee?” Sherlock nodded.  
“Milk, two sugars, please.” John went to fetch it. He also brought him a chocolate chip cookie. In the meantime, Sherlock had moved as close to the edge as possible. So had the gorilla. They still looked at each other while Sherlock drank his coffee. Then he slowly started to sway on the spot. The gorilla copied his moves. Then he waved. The gorilla waved back. Sherlock had finished his coffee and put the cup down. Then he ruffled his hair. The gorilla scratched his head. Sherlock grinned and showed his teeth and so did the gorilla.  
In the meantime, they had their audience and also some more gorillas were coming closer watching their alpha. Finally, Sherlock grabbed John and pulled him close. He pecked a kiss on his cheek and he furiously blushed. The gorilla growled and a female hurried to his side. He touched her breasts where a baby gorilla clung to her chest. Then he hit his big fists on his chest and became very, very loud. The gorillas started to act wild and run around. Sherlock yelled, too, and wildly waved his arms around.  
Afterwards they were complimented outside the building. They sat on a bench and laughed.  
“You were introduced to the family, John.”  
“You are good with animals, Sherlock.”  
“So, it seems. There are only three humans I am good with.” John took his hand.  
“Yes?”  
“Mycroft, Denis and you, John. Which leaves only two.”  
“We will find the killer, Sherlock.” That made him look at John.  
“We? No, John. It's too dangerous for you to get involved.”  
“I am already involved. I won't let you go after him all by yourself.”  
“Can we go home now and eat the cake?” John stood and pulled him up, too.  
“Only with a little detour for the penguins.” They walked over and watched the big things about one metre tall waddling around. Then they left. Outside the zoo Sherlock hailed a cab. John didn't comment but took his hand.  
Back at home they dressed into something comfy. Sherlock hopped on his feet in front of the counter eyeing the cake. John handed him a knife and set two plates on the counter.  
“There you go, you may cut it.” Sherlock was surprised but then took the knife and made perfect slices. He carefully got a piece and put it on a plate which he handed over to John. He cut the second for himself and John already had two smaller forks.  
Sherlock almost inhaled the cake watched by John. When he was done John used his finger to get the cream off his face and licked it off.  
“Take another one if you like.” Sherlock did exactly that but ate the second one slower. When he was done, he just grabbed John and snogged him senseless. He shoved him over to the sofa and made him sit. Then he brought over the wine and two glasses. He sat down with him.  
“John, this day, with you, I liked it. I liked everything what happened today. Everything, I mean it. Everything feels so good when you are with me. I want to be with you. More often.” John just stared back at him.  
“Yes.” He choked out only this little word but it was everything Sherlock needed to hear. He just settled on the sofa and sipped his wine.  
John watched him for a while but there was nothing more.  
“What is it, John?” Sherlock had turned towards him. John cleared his throat.  
“What is going to happen now?” Sherlock placed his empty glass on the table and took John's, too.  
“Now I will kiss you and undress you. Then I will move you into your bedroom where I will make love to you. That is what is going to happen now.” The word love shone bright in John's head.  
“Do you consent?” He asked making John smile.  
“Yes, I do.” Sherlock stood and pulled John with him. He slowly and languidly kissed him while undressing him. When he was naked, he was kissed all over his body and moved into his bedroom. He pushed him backwards on the bed and undressed himself very quickly.  
His hands roamed all over John's body and he kept kissing him. John just kept holding him. Both of them were hard and leaking. Sherlock spread John's legs and hooked one over his shoulder. He grabbed the lube from the night-stand and slicked his hand.  
He opened him up slowly and when John started to fuck back, he let him do as he wanted. He rubbed over his prostate making him writhe beneath him and fist the sheet. When he had worked him up to three fingers, he let go and slicked his cock. He pulled John closer and breached him. He moved in and out circling his hips rubbing over John's prostate with every single move.  
John arched his back beneath him and Sherlock took his prick. He moved his thumb over the head and pressed into the slit. John pressed his ankle into his shoulder. He reached up and touched what he could of Sherlock.  
“Faster, Sherlock! Oh God, please, faster!” John panted. Sherlock had to let go off his cock then and had his hands on both sides of his body. He pushed faster into him and his hair hung down. His limbs trembled. John moved his hands over his flanks and sides. He had pulled up both his legs and hooked them around his waist to get him closer.  
Sherlock pushed and pushed. He screamed when he finally came into John who was very close, too. He clenched when Sherlock came. Sherlock fisted him harder and after a few more strokes he came, too. His legs fell off and he closed his eyes. Sherlock pulled out and rolled on his side. John felt the cum dribble out of him. He felt for his hand and took it. Then he also turned his head. He met Sherlock's eyes and smiled.  
Sherlock saw dreamy John, happy John. He sat up and moved his hand over his body. Then his stomach rumbled. John laughed and got up on his elbows.  
“Obviously you need to eat. I want a drink. Let's get up.” And gone he was. Sherlock's fingers only touched his bum but couldn't stop him.  
John made a detour through the bathroom and dressed into something comfy again. He walked into the kitchen and checked his supplies. Perhaps Sherlock would like some risotto? He had to ask. Sherlock only wore his sweatpants when he came out of the bath. John licked his lips and his eyes roamed over his body. His hair was a mess and looked wild. Unconsciously he rubbed his stomach.  
“What's up for dinner?” John cleared his throat.  
“I could throw a risotto together?”  
“You've got meat?” John nodded.  
“Yes, beef or lamb.”  
“Lamb.”  
“OK. I will cook then. Could you fetch me a drink?” Sherlock nodded.  
“Sure.” He opened the bottle of wine and poured them a drink. He took a little plate out of the cupboard being watched by John. He carried it over to the coffee table where he arranged the truffles on it. He carried everything back and placed a drink beside John.  
“Thank you, Sherlock. What's that?” He eyed the plate.  
“I didn't make them myself but they are tasty.” He shoved the plate over to John.  
“Try one.” He did and crushed it in his mouth. It had a dark creamy filling with a taste of orange. John moaned and looked at Sherlock.  
“These are fantastic!” Sherlock smiled.  
“Good!” John cooked the rice and sipped his drink. He watched Sherlock walk over to the window and smoke. This was domestic, home, comfy zone. He liked it a lot.

Suddenly it knocked on their door. John raised his eyebrows. He didn't expect a visitor. He reduced the heat and set the pan aside. He opened the door.  
“Greg! Come in.” He entered the flat and found Sherlock smoking and half naked at the window. He quickly had a look and then another. He blushed. John grinned.  
“Hallo John, Mr Holmes. I am sorry to invade your privacy but I needed to talk to you.”  
“No problem, Greg. Care for dinner?”  
“Oh God, yes. Thanks a lot.” Sherlock passed by asking:  
“Doesn't my brother feed you properly, DI Lestrade?” Greg blushed again.  
“He had to leave again. He isn't home.” It sounded sad. Sherlock knew his brother had avoided talking to Greg. Sherlock dressed into a tee and returned. He handed Greg a whiskey and a plate with a piece of cake.  
“Here you go. I am sure he will be back soon. He misses you, too.” Greg wouldn't look at him but he thanked him for the cake and the drink. John looked at Sherlock and raised his eyebrows. Sherlock just mouthed “Later” and John returned to the stove.  
Greg inhaled the cake and Sherlock smoked at the open window. He sipped his whiskey and moved over to him. He was offered a fag and he happily took it.  
“Did you talk to your brother about me, Mr Holmes?” Sherlock looked serious.  
“It's Sherlock. And yes, I did.”  
“He was upset when he came home this morning. He kept moving around me as if I was an animal which would lash out any second. Or something like that. It was as if he was waiting for something to happen. And then he asked me if I was happy. What was I supposed to tell him?”  
“Are you happy?” Greg sighed and inhaled the smoke.  
“I love your brother. Deeply. I give him what he needs. I sub for him. I wear his bracelet. It's a compromise because I can hardly wear a collar at work, can't I?”  
“But it's too much, am I right?” Greg nodded.  
“Yes, it's too much. Sometimes I feel like a trained animal running by his side.”  
“You two need to talk. Tell him you love him. Tell him what you like. You can't go on like this.”  
“No, we can't. I can't.” They looked at each other and sipped their drinks.  
“Dinner is ready!” John called and they sat down. It was delicious and Sherlock said so.  
“As good as ever, John.” Greg added.  
“Thanks, mate.” John smiled and saw Sherlock look between them. He hadn't known how good they knew each other. They went to the pub and had dinner together. Even though John hadn't known about his relationship. He may have known about the sort of sex he had. How would he otherwise had stumbled over him? Then he got kicked under the table by John and looked up.  
“Cake, Sherlock?” He just nodded feeling a bit dumb. John brought the cake for everyone and the wine.  
“Now, Greg, what did you want to talk about?”  
“I had a call from Interpol earlier today. There was another body found. This time in Copenhagen. I wanted to show you the pictures. Perhaps you can tell me something Anderson can't?”  
“Sure thing. Where is it?” Greg stood and reached into his jacket. He brought a data stick.  
“I have it all saved on here. Every single murder. Perhaps you could have a look, too?” He looked at Sherlock.  
“Myc told me you help him sometimes with cases?”  
“Yes, I do and I will. If there is anything to find, I will find it.”  
“Thank you. I need to go now.” John saw him to the door and placed a hand on his arm.  
“Go to bed and sleep. You look hellish.” Greg nodded and left after he had hugged John. Sherlock was typing something on his mobile when John picked up the dishes.  
“What are you doing?”  
“Texting my brother. Telling him what an arse he is.”  
“What's going on between your brother and Greg?” Sherlock told him.  
“I already told you that Greg subs for him. First of all, I thought it was all fine but then I looked a bit closer. Greg isn't happy with the situation. He is doing all this because he thinks Mycroft needs it. He is afraid of losing him if he stops. He sure likes to play and that's how everything started between them. But Greg has feelings for my brother.” He slowly shook his head.  
“And Mycroft doesn't love Greg enough?”  
“Oh, I am sure he does. He just doesn't see. He assumes Greg likes to sub for him all the time.”  
“I saw the look in your eyes when you realised, I am a good friend to Greg. Were you jealous?”  
“Yes, I was.” John smiled.  
“I need to thank you.” Sherlock tilted his head.  
“What for?”  
“For being with me.” Now Sherlock stood and placed his hands on John's hips.  
“When you came into my studio and I saw you for the first time, I knew you were special. You knew exactly what you wanted and you looked straight into my eyes. I fell for your blue eyes that's why I blindfolded you at once. You made me feel self-conscious.”  
“Really? You scared me to death, you know? With that blindfold.”  
“Really?” John giggled.  
“Really.” John tilted his head and they kissed. Slowly. Languidly. Tenderly. And when they broke the kiss, they just smiled at each other.  
“After I have found the killer, I want you to move in with me. I will move the studio.”  
“What?” John felt a bit dizzy and blinked several times.  
“I want to spend all our free minutes together, John. That won't be possible if we are separated like this.”  
“I do work shifts, Sherlock.”  
“I can do, too.”  
“Sherlock, I am a bit overwhelmed right now.” Sherlock looked disappointed.  
“You don't want to move in with me ...” He slowly let go of John.  
“I want to spend every single minute with you. I miss you the second you leave me.” He held him back and looked into his eyes.  
“I love you.” Sherlock got lost in his deep blue eyes. His heart hammered against his ribs and his throat was dry. Then a very goofy smile appeared on his face.  
“I love you, too.” They stood in each other's arms for several minutes.

***

They still looked at each other. John licked his lips being watched by Sherlock who didn’t know what to do now.  
“This is so unreal …” John suddenly said. “I can’t really believe this is happening. To me. Of all people. You and me. Together.” Now Sherlock smiled again and took his hand. He once pressed it.  
“Just believe it. There is a you and me. That’s all you need to know.” Sherlock felt his trembling body.  
“I am so excited.” John blurted out. “I am restless. I think I need another drink.” Sherlock kissed him again.  
“Come down, love. Sit here and relax. I will get you another drink right now.” John watched him move around and prepare his drink. He took it.  
“Thank you. Aren’t you excited at all?”  
“I was a few minutes ago. Now there are plans in my head.”  
“Plans?” Sherlock nodded.  
“Yes, if you are going to move in with me, I will have to move my studio away.”  
“But why?” John wondered and Sherlock raised his eyebrows.  
“Because I don’t want you close to my business. It can’t be. I have to divide my privacy from my business.”  
“Why don’t you move in with me and keep your studio? You could change the flat you live in now into a new studio, too?”  
“Your place is too small, John. No offence.”  
“No offence taken. But there are two other rooms upstairs. I only never use them. We could enlarge the bath and everything. I am sure it will work.”  
“I would need a walk-in wardrobe.”  
“Whatever you need.”  
“And we need a play-room.”  
“Sounds good to me.”  
“I will call some companies to do the change.”  
“Shouldn’t we talk about the changes you want to make?”  
“Why? My plans are perfect.”  
“Yes, but we need to talk to the landlord about it.”  
“I could buy the place. Never mind, John. Just don’t worry.”  
“I don’t worry. I am just a bit dizzy. I trust you. Completely.” Sherlock looked at him over the rim of his glass. Suddenly a dangerous smile was on his face.  
“Was that an offer to play right now?” John smiled back.  
“We need to celebrate, don’t we?” Sherlock downed his drink.  
“Oh, yes, we do!” John downed his drink, as well, and looked at him expectantly.  
“Show me then how very thankful you are!” He roughly whispered pouring another drink. Now he stood beside the fire-place. John moved down on his hands and knees and slowly crawled over to him not breaking eye-contact.  
He straightened up after he had reached him and opened his trousers. Of course, Sherlock wore no pants. John licked his lips and Sherlock said quietly:  
“Don’t make me spill my drink, slut …” It was a threat, that much was clear.  
“No, Sir, I won’t. I don’t want you to get dirty.”  
“Oh, perhaps you should hold it for me then.” He handed him both his whiskey and his wine glass so John wasn’t able to use his hands on him.  
“Now spread your arms and hold them up.” John was very much reminded of his times on the parade ground when he was younger. Only then there were buckets filled with water or mud in his hands.  
Sherlock stroked himself to full hardness.  
“Open your mouth, slut!” John obeyed at once. Sherlock slowly moved his prick over his lips and John started to lick and swallow. Sherlock reached to his side and filled both glasses. Then he very slowly and carefully started to move his hips. John closed his eyes and concentrated on his moves and his own tongue. Sherlock pushed deeper and deeper and John swayed with him.  
Sherlock was impressed. They moved in unison. It was perfect. He let John do his wonders and just looked down and kept moving. Then he quietly yelped and came down his throat. John swallowed everything and looked up still holding both glasses in his outstretched arms.  
He again licked around his head and Sherlock groaned looking down. Then he took the wine out of his hand and drank it slowly. He stayed put and so did John. He just kept licking and suckling. They had locked eyes. After he had drunk the wine, he finished the whiskey. John kept his arms to his side. Sherlock was rock hard again and pulled out.  
“Stay!” John stayed and watched him come for the second time shooting his cum into the glass. Then he stepped up and fisted his hair. He tilted the glass and made him drink.  
“Drink, slurp and lick, slut. Just for me!” John did and when he was done, Sherlock dropped on his knees by his side and palmed his crotch. He pressed and rubbed until John came into his trousers. Sherlock’s cock still hung out. He cleaned it on John’s face and stuck it back in.  
“You stay down exactly like this!” He walked around him and opened the window. He leant against the sill and smoked watching John’s back. He didn’t even tremble. This was no hardship for him. Sherlock needed to think of something else.  
Perhaps a sound deprivation experiment? That would be interesting to see if John would come only from his touches.  
Suddenly John sneezed three times. He didn’t lower his arms though. Sherlock kept watching and could now see a faint trembling in his arms. What was happening there?  
About ten minutes later he sneezed again and coughed, too. It sounded more like a bark. Sherlock hurried to his side and looked down. John’s cheeks were red and his eyes were glassy.  
“John? Lower your arms.” John looked up and did as being told.  
“What’s wrong?” He shook his head.  
“I don’t know. I feel hot and dizzy, I …” Then he lost his stance and fell on is heels. Sherlock fell down on his knees at once and held him.  
“You are ill, love. Come on and get up.” John sneezed again and clung to his arm.  
“Nonsense, I can't get ill that quick. Perhaps I am allergic?”  
“You are coughing, your cheeks are red and your head is all hot. Your fringe is wet and you are sweating. And you are freezing, obviously.”  
“But how? I don't want to be sick! I am spoiling our weekend!”  
“Soon we will be living together. You have to go to bed, John. Please, don't make a fuss.” John looked up out of feverish eyes and just held on to him trying to get up. He made it as far as to his knees then he fell forward and against Sherlock.  
“Fuck ...” He groaned and closed his eyes. Sherlock was worried now. He had no experiences with sick people. He never took care of someone like this but he knew he couldn't leave John alone. He lifted him up and almost carried him over into the bedroom. He undressed him and took the soiled clothes away. Then he cleaned him. In the bath he found a thermometer and a package of paracetamol. Then he got some water and made him swallow two pills. Then he stuck the thermometer into his mouth and waited five minutes. It told him 39,8 C and even Sherlock knew this was bloody high.  
He sat on the edge of the bed by a non-moving John and called his brother. Then he remembered he wasn't in but Greg answered the phone. He had called the landline.  
“Sherlock, is that you?”  
“Yes, hallo again, Greg. I am sorry to disturb you but I need help.”  
“Help? What happened?” He told him and Greg sensed how worried he was.  
“Well, I think he came down with the flue. It's everywhere right now. What did you do so far?” Sherlock told him and Greg hummed.  
“Keep his body warm but take some towels or fabric and soak them with cold water. Put them around his calves. Make him drink hot tea and water, a lot. Put some honey into the tea and a cold cloth on his forehead. Measure his temperature regularly. If it's not going down by tomorrow morning, call an ambulance. Understood?”  
“Yes, Greg. Thank you, Greg. I had no idea what to do.”  
“No problem, Sherlock. Please give me a call tomorrow and let me know how he is doing, OK?”  
“I will, promise.” They hung up and Sherlock looked at John who didn't move. He breathed open-mouthed and it sounded very, very sick. Then he started to do what Greg had told him. When he was done, he brought the red wine with him and sat on the bed beside him. Soon he got bored and felt sorry. Then he got John's laptop and changed his appointments for the next three days due to personal reasons.  
Two hours later he changed the fabric around his calves and on his head. Now he shivered under the blankets Sherlock had pulled over him and his teeth shattered but he didn't wake.  
John kept sleeping for the next 8 hours and Sherlock stayed awake to change the cold fabric and measure his temperature. When he woke, he sat up and badly coughed. He could hardly speak a word but he saw Sherlock. He croaked out something which could very well have been Sherlock's name.  
“Stay in bed, John. I will make you tea with honey.” Now the croaky noise sounded like “loo” and Sherlock helped him up. He held him over the toilet and also held his prick while he pissed. Right after John slumped again. His legs couldn't hold him up. He coughed and sneezed and was pulled back out and into bed.  
Then he made him drink more tea with honey and water with paracetamol. John blacked out again. This time Sherlock climbed in bed beside him. He was tired but then decided to check on the flat before he went to sleep. He locked the door and closed the window. He checked the fire-place and the kitchen. He returned with two bottles of water and changed his cold towels again. The temperature was a bit lower than before and Sherlock sighed. Then he got under the blanket with him and fell asleep by his side.

***

He woke again when he felt a certain weight on his body. He opened his eyes. The room was bright from the sun and John was half over his body trying to reach the bottle of water.  
“John, you should have woken me. Hold on and I'll get it.” He pressed him down again and turned around for the bottle. John sneezed and coughed and sat up against the headrest. He looked a bit better after he had drunk the whole bottle.  
Sherlock shoved the thermometer back into his mouth.  
“Much better, love.” Sherlock looked at the temperature.  
“You should go. I feel much better and don’t want to infect you.”  
“Shut up, sneezy slut. I will stay. I already moved my appointments.”  
“Sneezy slut?” But he grinned. Then it knocked on their door and Sherlock got up. He opened the door and found Greg with a bag.  
“Greg, hi. We just woke.”  
“Is John up again? How is he?”  
“I did not kill him if you were worried.” Greg smiled at him.  
“No, I didn’t. But I also assumed you aren’t the best cook ever. That’s why I brought chicken broth.”  
“My brother doesn’t know what he is missing.”  
“Well, I do …” They locked eyes and after a few seconds Greg placed the pot on the stove and turned on the heat.  
“Did he come back yet? Did he talk to you?” Greg shook his head.  
“No, was he supposed to?” Very sarcastic.  
“When did he leave again?”  
“I am not sure; I was in bed.” Sherlock sighed.  
“I see. Well, then I will talk to you.”  
“About what exactly?”  
“About your relationship with each other.”  
“I don’t want to talk about it to you.”  
“Perhaps I could help?”  
“I appreciate your concern but I don’t know you yet. Please, Sherlock, don’t insist.”  
“I already texted my brother and told him how extremely stupid he is.”  
“What? You didn’t tell him I said so, did you?” Sherlock looked at him.  
“Of course not, I wouldn’t do such a thing. But I am worried about you and so is John.”  
“Why would you be worried about me?”  
“Because you are not pleased with the situation. Because you obviously do things just to please my brother.”  
“We play. You should know about it.”  
“Oh no, Greg, you don’t play. You sub almost 24/7 and you are wearing his bracelet instead of a collar.” Greg just stirred the broth.  
“So what? I love him. And if he needs this …” Now Sherlock placed his hand on Greg’s shoulder.  
“What about your needs? Did he ever ask?” Greg didn’t answer.  
“No, of course he didn’t.” Sherlock snorted.  
“But he does love you, Greg. I know that. He won’t leave you when you are honest with him.” Greg kept stirring. Then he just said:  
“I will talk to him as soon as he is back, Sherlock. Thank you.” Suddenly John shuffled up.  
“What’s going on? I smell food.” Sherlock turned around.  
“What are you doing here not being in bed? Get back at once!”  
“But I am hungry!” He still sounded very snotty. Sherlock had his arm around his shoulder and made him sit at the table.  
“Greg brought soup, John.” Greg stepped up and placed his hand on his forehead.  
“Go away, Greg. I am the doctor.” He tried to shove his hand away.  
“Be nice to Greg, John! And you were an army-doctor. You do gun-shots, not the flue!”  
“Shut up, Sherlock!” John placed his head on his arms on the table. But he smiled. Sherlock took a bowl and filled some broth into it. He set it on the table in front of John.  
“Eat your soup, baby.” John grabbed the spoon and ate. Greg looked between them and smiled. Sherlock offered Greg a drink and brought John water. John devoured the soup but right after his eyes drooped again. He very slowly got up and Sherlock brought him back to bed. He was asleep the moment he hit the mattress. Sherlock pulled up the blanket and returned to Greg.  
“Do you want some soup, too, Sherlock?” The smell was divine and he just nodded.  
“Yes, please.” He sat down with Greg and ate his soup, too. It was perfect and he licked his lips.  
“Do you like it? I cooked it myself.” Greg mentioned quietly.  
“No wonder my brother got a little pouch.” Sherlock grinned.  
“It’s delicious.”  
“Really, you think so? Myc never says anything.”  
“But he eats everything you give him?” Greg nodded.  
“Yes, he does.”  
“He assumes you know.”  
“Without telling me anything?”  
“Yes, it is the only way of communication he knows. Probably it only works with me. At first, I had problems with John, too. But now I just try to tell him out loud. “  
“I see. I think, I know better now why I need to talk to him. Thanks a lot, Sherlock.”  
“No, I have to thank you for the broth. It was great.” Greg smiled and left the rest with him. Sherlock had a look into the bedroom and found John sleeping covered under the blanket. He sighed and made new cold calf packings. He also carefully moved the thermometer between his lips and found his temperature was still around 38,5 C.  
He walked back into the living-room and watched a bit of crap telly. Later on, he had another drink and a fag, too. Then he decided to have a look at the data Greg had brought earlier. He took John’s laptop again and checked through the whole file.  
The mutilated body from Copenhagen looked exactly the same and so did the ones which were found before Denis. Sherlock was furious. They needed to find the creature who did this. But he needed access to a better computer. He needed to wait for his brother to come back.

***

John slept through the whole night and the next morning was already better. He sat up in bed and found fresh packings around his legs and a cold cloth on his head. He drank the bottle of water which was still cool. He listened into the flat and heard a typing sound. Sherlock was up then.  
John carefully stood and walked over into the bath. It worked well. He splashed cold water into his face and then went to see Sherlock. He already waited outside and looked at him.  
“You could have called me, John.”  
“I am only having the flue, Sherlock. Don’t exaggerate, please?”  
“Are you feeling better?”  
“Yes, I do. And I am hungry again. And I don’t want tea, I want coffee.”  
“Let me take your temperature.” He placed him on the sofa and brought a blanket. Then he held up the thermometer in front of his lips and John took it.  
“Good boy.” He moved his thumb over his cheek and smiled. Then he checked the temperature.  
“How much?” John asked.  
“38,2 C. Much better. You may have coffee.” Sherlock went over into the kitchen and prepared coffee for John.  
“Did you have dinner?” John asked.  
“Yes, Captain, I had some of your broth.” He brought him the coffee and his milk.  
“Thank you, dear. I am sorry, I spoilt our weekend. And I want to tell you, I am really thankful that you stayed with me.”  
“I know you think me weird but I never would have left you alone. I love you, John.”  
“I love you, too. I am happy to have you here, all the time. Mind the weirdness.”  
“It’s all new to me but I try.” John looked up at him and saw him standing there like a little boy. He thought he might need some praise, too.  
“I know. I only hope you don’t get the flue now. It would have been better for your business if you stayed away from me.” At once he straightened up.  
“You don’t care about my business, John. It’s not as important as you are. If I have to worry about you, I can’t concentrate on my work. I need to know you are OK.”  
“You are quite a bit obsessed with me, aren’t you?” Now he bit his lips.  
“I need to do it right. Don’t you understand?”  
“Everybody makes mistakes, Sherlock. It’s human.”  
“But if I’d make a bad mistake, you will go away and I will be alone again.”  
“Aha!” John thought. He is afraid of losing me. Maybe it happened before.  
“Sherlock, did someone leave you because you made a mistake?” He nodded.  
“Yes.” John sighed but only inwardly.  
“What happened? What did you do?”  
“I forgot several dates with him due to my work and my work for Myc.”  
“Did that guy understand how important your work is? And your work for your brother?”  
“I thought he knew.”  
“Did you ever tell him how important it is for you?”  
“I guess not. I thought it was obvious.”  
“Things you find obvious aren’t for the rest of the world, Sherlock.”  
“I found out.” John finished his coffee and looked up at him.  
“I won’t leave you.” Sherlock smiled.

***

John needed two more days to recover and then had to go to work, too. Sherlock fussed all over him before he was about to leave.  
“Sherlock, I am fine. Please, don’t worry. You have to take care of your work now. If something is wrong, I am going to text you.”  
“OK.”  
“Please don’t get too distracted. Your clients pay a lot of money for you to take care of them.”  
“I know.”  
“Really?” Sherlock nodded.  
“Yes, I do. I look forward to seeing you again tonight. I am not sure when I will be home. Don’t wait with the dinner.”  
“See you tonight, love you!”  
“Love you, too!” Sherlock kissed him and left. John left a bit later because he still had to pack his bag. He saw his cab disappear around the corner and went to the tube.  
After he had seen the medical manager of the hospital he was formally introduced to the crew. Some of them were at the A&E when he had helped out the first day. They were excited to see him again. They did really need help there. They were disorganised in both personnel and equipment. John would have a lot to do. But he looked forward to the challenge.  
He went for lunch with some nurses who shamelessly flirted with him and he enjoyed it a lot. Lucky him Sherlock wasn’t here. He would be jealous again.  
During the afternoon several victims were brought in from a car crash on the motorway. He was done at about six and left the hospital around seven. When he reached 221B he looked up and found the flat dark. Sherlock wasn’t home yet. Did he make that many appointments? John wondered. He entered the flat and saw that he had been here but left again. His laptop sat open on the table and the file from the murder in Denmark was open. His mobile and coat were gone. He must have found something and left.  
John had some idea that it could take time until he would be back and didn’t worry. He wondered if he should text him but he would only disturb his research. But suddenly his mobile dinged.

_“Did you hear from Sherlock?”  
GL_

Well, now John was worried and he called Greg.  
“I just got your text. What happened?” John asked at once without any greeting.  
“He called me earlier today and said he had found something. He wouldn’t say what though; he never does until he is sure about it.”  
“He is not home yet. When did he call you?”  
“Around three.”  
“Is this normal? That long without a notice?” John asked Greg.  
“Sometimes he disappears for days but that was before you came into his life. Somehow I don’t think he would do this now.”  
“I am worried, Greg. Shouldn’t we call Mycroft?”  
“Let’s meet and see if he is at his flat. If not, we will call his brother.”  
“OK, I am on my way. Meet there?”  
“Yes.” They hung up and John hurried out again. He was worried. He saw the corpse of Sherlock’s friend in his mind. What if something had happened to Sherlock? What if he was hurt? Or worse?  
Without even noticing he had reached Sherlock’s flat and studio. He saw Greg’s car parking right in front of it. He was getting out right now. They just nodded a hallo and Greg rang the doorbell. Nothing happened. He got a key out of his pocket and unlocked the door.  
“You have a key to his place?” Greg smiled.  
“No, but Myc does.” John didn’t ask. Greg opened the door. Both of them knew their way into the studio and John thought of the day they had met. They looked through the different rooms. They had been used but no one was here.  
Then Greg went upstairs and wanted to unlock the door to his flat. But it wasn’t locked and he was able to open the door right away. They stood in the door and had a look. Somebody had searched something. The place was a mess. Every single drawer was opened, papers were on the floor and pillows were sliced open and so on.  
“Fuck …” Greg muttered.  
“Fuck indeed!” John agreed. Then he called out.  
“Sherlock?” No reply and they looked through the rooms. John had never been here and it felt strange.  
“He is not here.” The voice made them jump and John’s hand moved to his hip where his weapon had sat before. Greg had lifted his arms as if to attack. Both of them relaxed when they saw who it was.  
“Fuck.” John cursed. Greg just closed his eyes.  
“What do you know?” Greg seriously looked at him.  
“I just checked CCTV and found this.”  
“Did he call you, too?” John asked.  
“He called me this afternoon and asked for some information which I provided.”  
“What information?” Greg asked.  
“I can’t tell you. Your security clearance is too low. I am sorry.”  
“Fuck, I did black ops. Mine good enough?” John calmly stated. Mycroft looked at him and thinly smiled.  
“Somehow my brother managed to find a connection between all victims. Some of them were working for the government of this country and their own. He needed to get access to their mail account to check their calendars and addresses.”  
“And you have no idea where he has gone?” John ruffled his hair.  
“CCTV lost him in Greenwich.”  
“What about GPS?” Greg asked.  
“His mobile is switched off.”  
“This is so not good …” John whispered.  
“What are we going to do?” Greg asked.  
“I already sent some agents out to Greenwich to his last known location. I will go there to talk to them personally. Why don’t you join me?” John nodded at once and Greg said:  
“Of course, I will be coming, too.” They drove with Mycroft’s car to Greenwich and stopped at the corner where Sherlock had last been seen on CCTV. They stood on the pavement and looked around.  
“I will go and talk to the people in the shops. Perhaps there was something going on and they noticed.” Greg at once started to work. John looked a bit helplessly at Mycroft. Mycroft reached into a hidden compartment and got out a gun.  
“Here, take this. Just in case.” John just took it and didn’t ask questions. He hid the gun under his jacket.  
“What are we going to do?” Mycroft pointed over to a corner and a narrow street right to their left. They walked over and John took the lead moving in front of Mycroft.  
“Protection modus.” Mycroft thought and followed him closely. Suddenly John stopped and Mycroft almost bumped into him. They stood in front of a rather big dustbin and John pointed to the ground.  
“See that? It looks like blood.” He went down on his knees and was handed a forensic evidence bag.  
“Scratch something up.” Next he was handed a pair of gloves. While he scratched, he heard a strange sound. He turned his head to the side and there it was again. It sounded almost like a painful moan but it was barely audible. He looked up at Mycroft.  
“Can you hear that?” Mycroft bent down and listened. Then he nodded.  
“It comes out of the bin.” They both looked at each other and John just opened the lid. He looked into the bin and found Sherlock face down on top of a corpse. He was covered in blood from what John was able to see.  
“Oh, my God!” Mycroft said and tried to reach into the bin but John stopped him.  
“No, don’t. We have to be careful. Get on your phone and call help.” He heaved himself up and climbed into the bin. He stood in there with Sherlock between his spread legs. He carefully moved his hands over his limbs. As far as he could see and feel from here there was nothing broken. He touched his head and carefully moved it to the side. The moaning became louder.  
“Sherlock, can you hear me?” There was no reply. John carefully moved his head and moved his hair out of the way. He had a severe gush on the side of his head which was still bleeding. His nose was broken and he had bruises on his cheekbones and a black eye. His lips had cuts from severe blows.  
Mycroft was leaning over the bin again.  
“What's wrong with him? Is he hurt badly?”  
“You've got another pair of gloves?” Mycroft handed it over and John put his pair into another evidence bag being provided by Mycroft. Now he very carefully stuck two fingers into Sherlock's mouth and pried it open. No teeth shattered or lost but bloody. Now his eyelids began to flutter and he opened one eye.  
“Shoon?” He couldn't really speak and John tenderly touched his face.  
“Yes, Sherlock, it's me. You are safe now. Don't worry.” He tried to lift up his arms but groaned at once.  
“Hush, don't move. An ambulance is on the way. I will take care of you myself. Don't worry.”  
“M cooould, Shoon, so cooould ...” Now John looked up at Mycroft.  
“Where is that fucking ambulance?” The same moment he could hear them. He also heard Greg.  
“What the fuck happened? John? Mycroft?” Now he stood beside Mycroft and looked into the bin, too. He paled. Then he called his team. He also took photos with his phone to have some pictures with Sherlock on the corpse. Of course, he had to be moved, so at least he tried to safe some evidence.  
John stayed in the bin with the doctor. He did a quick check-up and then ordered him to be taken out.  
“Where are you taking him?” Mycroft answered that question.  
“Private hospital. Go along, John. You've got all access needed and everything has been arranged.” John thankfully nodded and left with the ambulance. Greg stayed behind with Mycroft. They looked at each other. Greg saw how shocked he was and carefully placed a hand on his arm. He felt him twitch but didn't let go. Instead he just tightened his grip.  
He looked at Greg and a single tear ran down his cheek.  
“I thought he was dead, Greg. I once almost lost him and if you hadn't been there …” He shook his head.  
“He will live; John will take care of him. Why don't you go home and come down?”  
“Only if you promise to come by later and inform me about everything.” Greg nodded.  
“Of course, I will do that. Just go now.” And Mycroft really left. Greg sighed and watched him drive away. Then he watched his team arrive and do its work. Three hours later he was dirty and sweaty but he knew if he would go home first, he would fall into his bed. So, he drove over to Mycroft's house and rang the bell. He knew his way and he had a key to his place but he never used it when he knew Myc was home.  
It took some minutes for Mycroft to open the door. And when he did Greg gaped. He looked hellish. He wore cargo pants and a ratty tee. His hair was dishevelled as if he had torn it. He wore no shoes. And he smelled of alcohol. Greg could see he had been crying. His eyes were red and his face was blotchy. He looked at Greg with an expression of hope somehow. Greg knew he had to take over. That's why he didn't comment on his state.  
He closed the door and took his hand. He walked him back into his living-room and made him sit in an armchair. Then he made a fire and handed him another drink.  
“Talk to me, Myc. Please!” He looked up and worried his lips. Then he cleared his throat and looked up at Greg.  
“I almost lost my brother. Again. I was so scared. I am happy you are here. Now. With me. I don't know how to ask for help. I only know I need you. Close. By my side. I know I should have talked to you earlier. I didn't realise you didn't know that I love you. A lot. I thought it was obvious.” Then he shut up. Greg stared at him. Then he smiled and pecked a kiss on his lips.  
“I love you, too. A lot. That's why I did stupid things. I agreed to everything because I was afraid you would leave me if I wouldn't sub for you 24/7. I am wearing your bracelet telling myself it was more an engagement ring than a collar.”  
“I thought you liked our games, the sex?” Greg sadly smiled.  
“But I do! But not 24/7.” They looked at each other.  
“I should have stated my wishes earlier. I just assumed.”  
“I should have safe-worded earlier. I could have said something, too. As long as we are clear now, everything will be alright.” Mycroft nodded and looked into his eyes clearly expecting something.  
“Will you tell me about Sherlock now? Greg?”  
“Of course. He was brought into hospital and John watched everything close. He comes back to consciousness repeatedly. His injuries are minor but many. He will need some days to recover but he will be just fine again. So, don't worry about him anymore. You can go and see him tomorrow.” He closed his eyes and raggedly exhaled. Then he stood and faced Greg.  
“Could you please just hold me?” Greg pulled him close and hugged him. He stroked over his back and carded through his hair. Mycroft placed his head on Greg's shoulder and relaxed. They stood like this for a long time.  
Finally, Greg held him a bit back and asked:  
“Have you eaten?” He only shook his head.  
“Let's have dinner then.” They walked into the kitchen.  
“The maid is already gone.” Greg grinned.  
“I am here now. Sit down and let me do the chores.” Mycroft sat at the kitchen table and kept watching Greg who moved through the kitchen, gathered supplies, and started to cook. He made some hearty stew and set it in a bowl before Mycroft. He even handed him a spoon and as soon as Mycroft smelled the food he started to eat. He finished the bowl and licked over his lips. Greg brought him another drink.  
“Won't you like a drink, too, and dinner?”  
“I had an awful lot of candy at the crime scene. I am still fed up. But I will take a drink.” Mycroft kept looking at him and finally dared to ask:  
“Will you be staying over?” Greg looked back at him and cleared his throat.  
“Yes. I am not leaving you alone.”  
“Thank you. I mean it.” Greg cleared away their dishes and put them in the dishwasher. Then he walked upstairs with him. Mycroft only brushed his teeth and then climbed into bed. His eyes drooped but he kept watching Greg who undressed and quickly went through his bathroom routine. He climbed into the big bed and at once Mycroft huddled close. Greg pulled up the duvet all the way and pulled him against his chest. He felt his fingers entwine with his own and then his body relaxed. Mycroft had fallen asleep.

***

John had curled up in an armchair in Sherlock's room. Since this was a private hospital, the patient's rooms were different. This looked more than a living-room than a hospital. Later a nurse had covered his body with a blanket and he didn't even notice.  
Sherlock slowly woke. The room was almost dark but there was still enough light to make out John's body. He groaned quietly when he tried to move. His whole body hurt and it wasn't a good pain. He tried to touch his nose but was stopped by the hose leading from his arm to a plastic bag above his head. He used his other hand and carefully felt around his face. There were several bandages and a rather big one covered his nose. He was a bit worried about his appearance. His face and body were important.  
He was thirsty and looked to the side to see if there was some water. But it was too far away and he couldn't reach it. Suddenly the door opened and the overhead light came to life. The same moment John sat up in his chair.  
“Sherlock, you woke up!” He hurried to his side and carefully moved his fingers over his head.  
“John.” He croaked.  
“Water.” The nurse hurried outside again and returned with both fresh water and a doctor. John held the bottle to his lips and he greedily drank half of it. The doctor patiently waited.  
“Dr Watson, I understand you are his doctor? Mr Holmes told me to assist you in any way.” John just cleared his throat. He was surprised. Mycroft established his authority. He straightened up.  
“Have you x-rayed him already?” He nodded.  
“Yes, here are the pictures.” The nurse handed over a tablet and John had a closer look. No broken bones which was good.  
“What happened to me?” John turned around.  
“You have been beaten to a pulp and binned. You are badly bruised; your nose is broken and we had to stitch a wound on your head.” His eyes widened.  
“What about my face? What happened to my hair?” He tried to touch his head but wasn't able to lift his arms because he hurt too much. His face contorted into pain and John placed a hand on his body.  
“Don't worry. Your beauty will be fully restored. You will be a bit colourful for the next days, maybe weeks. The place where your hair needed to be cut will grow over soon.”  
“Cut?” He just mouthed.  
“Get me a mirror at once!” He almost spit it out and John sighed. He turned around and looked at the nurse who reached into her pocket. John held the little mirror in front of his face and Sherlock took a frightened look. Then he groaned.  
“Oh, my God! I look like an ogre!” John outright laughed and told him to shut up.  
“You will look perfectly fine in a few week’s time, Sherlock. You are alive. Think about what could have happened! By the way, tell me what the fuck happened.” John just smiled at him but Sherlock sensed he was angry.  
“We don't need to do any examinations today. Just let him rest and eat. We can pull the stitches out probably tomorrow. Don't you agree, Dr Watson?” John nodded.  
“Yes, I do. What about some breakfast? I think he can eat.” The doctor nodded and the nurse left the room to fetch it.  
“I am not hungry.”  
“Just a little. Please, Sherlock. You have to recover.”  
“John, I need to ask you a favour.” John held up his hand.  
“First you are going to have breakfast. Then you will talk.” The nurse returned with tea and porridge. Sherlock made a face.  
“Please, Sherlock, eat it.” He pouted and drank some tea instead.  
“Pour some sugar over it.” John sighed but organised some and poured it over the meal. Sherlock ate it all and drank a lot of tea afterwards.  
“There you go. Very good.”  
“Don't patronise me, John. I am not a baby.” John grinned.  
“No, you are not. You are a very stubborn child.”  
“May I ask now?” John nodded and sat on his bed.  
“Sure, what do you want me to do?”  
“I need you to cancel my appointments. You can reach my calendar and everything from any computer. I will write down my login data for you. I trust you. Could you do it for me? If I have to look on a screen or concentrate on something, I think my head might explode.”  
“Sure, I will do that. After you told me what happened.”  
“I found a connection between all the victims. They all had to do with sex somehow. Some of them were selling their bodies. Few of them were doing things like I do. One worked for a special victim’s unit. All of them had appointments with a certain company selling psychological advice.” He had to stop talking and closed his eyes.  
“Slowly, Sherlock. I am not running away. Here, drink some more.” He drank the water.  
“Can I get some painkillers?” John gave him two pills and he drank them down with more water.  
“What kind of company are we talking about?”  
“It's more of a community. You have to buy their products to get their advice.”  
“As in Scientology?”  
“That's what I thought, too. But it's not. They just stole the concept and it works.”  
“And you think they had all these people killed?”  
“Yes, I do.”  
“Why?”  
“Duh, John! Look at me! Right after I talked to someone at their office, I got knocked off my feet and taken away in a car. They beat me and ...” Now he swallowed and looked away.  
“And what, Sherlock? Talk to me!”  
“How properly have I been examined, John?” John's eyes became big and he ripped the file off the bed going through it. Then he saw it. The ambulance squad found his behind all bruised, too. They checked his genitals and hole and found traces of sperm. What they didn't find were traces of a forceful rape. But then, how did the cum get into him? Samples had been taken and his blood had been examined. No infection so far but the results for HIV and such needed time.  
“Why haven't I been told by this stupid doctor?” John was angry.  
“Please, John. Don't ...” Sherlock just shook his head and John sat by his side again.  
“I am sorry, Sherlock. Please do continue.” His fingers were clutching the sheet and he wouldn't reach out or touch John. And John knew better than to touch him now. He had been working with sexually abused people.  
“When I woke up again, they held me down and stuck some sort of syringe into my ass. They told me exactly what they were doing. Afterwards they beat me and threw me away. What happened before I can't remember; I don't know it. I still feel my prick hurting but I can't move my body to have a closer look. It feels like sore and chafed off skin. Could you please …?” Sherlock still looked down and not at John.  
“Of course, Sherlock. I am a doctor, you know that. Let me take care of you, OK?” Now he looked up and slowly nodded. His hands left the sheet. His hands trembled.  
Very carefully John pulled the duvet off his body. His fingers hooked under the hem of Sherlock's pyjamas. He pulled them down being careful not to touch too much of his prick. Then he had a closer look. Sherlock had been right. It looked still red and sore. And some skin was chafed off, too. It was also a bit icky still. Obviously, he hadn't been cleaned after they took the samples. John was very much pissed off. He looked at Sherlock.  
“You were right, it looks sore. I will clean you and apply some cream. Don't worry, OK? It's me and I will look after you. No one else will touch you but me.” Sherlock didn't answer but watched John cleaning and disinfecting his hands. He came back with a wash-cloth and a bowl with warm water. Afterwards he used the cream.  
“It feels better now, it's cool. Thank you.” Sherlock sighed and closed his eyes.  
“Just cover yourself with the duvet. As soon as I have checked you over completely, I will take you home again.” Sherlock nodded. He looked at John again. John worried his lips but then asked:  
“Why aren't you dead?” They looked at each other.  
“They got disturbed and had to leave me behind. I am not sure if they know I am alive.”  
“You need to talk to your brother.”  
“I need to sleep some more. Please, dim the light.” John did exactly that and watched him fall asleep. He took the file again and slipped out of the room to find that doctor.

***

After several minutes he stood in front of his office and didn't even bother to knock. He just dashed inside and stopped as if nailed to the ground. There was the doctor groping a young nurse who tried to cover her breasts. He obviously just had pushed her hands out of the way. She was crying and now looked wide-eyed at John who just kicked the door close behind him.  
“Who dares to ...” The doctor turned and saw John.  
“Get dressed again and leave.” John told the nurse and she just ran away sobbing. He would talk to her later. Then he approached the doctor.  
“Do you need anything, Dr Watson?” He had the guts to smile at him. John was wired anyway and this man really didn't make it better.  
“Yes, I do. Firstly, I need to kick your ass, your sorry excuse for a doctor!” Then his fist hit his face. Hard. He broke his nose. And some ribs. Only when he spit out a tooth, John let go and just held him up by his lapels.  
“I will inform Mr Holmes about everything. You will never set foot into a hospital again. Never.” He shoved him backwards.  
“Get out of my eyes! Now!” He swayed out of the room watched by some nurses and other personal. John followed him and wanted to alert security. The people looked at him and started to applaud him. They laughed and cheered and thanked him. He let them and afterwards talked to the head-nurse.  
“Can you take care of everything while we are looking for a new doctor?” She nodded.  
“Sure thing, Dr Watson.”  
“Did you have a look at my boyfriend's file?” She shook her head.  
“No, Dr Watson, I didn't. He wrote it himself and wouldn't show it to anybody.”  
“I see.” John thought about it. Shouldn't he have let him leave?  
“Dr Watson, as far as I know you haven't been eating. I suggest you take over the office and I will see to everything.” He smiled at her and looked at her name-tag.  
“Thank you, Glenda. I appreciate your concern. Just go on.” He returned into the office and checked the drawers and the computer. Finally, he called Mycroft and told him about the latest events. He promised to take care of it and come by the next day.  
John read through Sherlock's file again. Why had they shot cum into him? Did they want to humiliate him? Poison him? Or had it just been a first step and they really got disturbed? He had asked Mycroft to speed up the examinations of Sherlock's blood samples.  
Glenda returned with a bowl of stew which was actually good and not like hospital food John remembered.  
“I also checked on your boyfriend, Dr Watson. He had just woken up again and was asking for you. I told him you will be with him any minute.”  
“Thanks a lot, Glenda.” He almost inhaled the stew. He had been very hungry. He drank a bottle of water, too, and walked back to Sherlock. He entered his room and found him sitting upright.  
“What happened?” Sherlock asked looking John up and down.  
“I took over this hospital.” Sherlock looked at him.  
“What?” John explained everything making Sherlock smile.  
“I also talked to Mycroft. He will be over tomorrow. And I checked your file again. I believe they injected the cum into you as a starter. It was supposed to be humiliating but nothing more. But then they got disturbed.”  
“Are you hurt?” Sherlock looked at John, looking him up and down again.  
“What? No, I am not. Why would I be hurt?” Sherlock sighed.  
“You just told me you fought with the doctor.”  
“So?” Sherlock helplessly lifted up his arms.  
“There is blood on your shirt, John.” John smiled and sat on his bed.  
“Well, it's not mine, Sherlock. I was trained a close combat fighter. You know what I did.”  
“You were a doctor.” Almost pouting.  
“An army-doctor, Sherlock.”  
“Why did you fight with the doctor, John? What happened? I can't be only because of my file?”  
“No, of course not. I found him touching a young nurse when I entered his office.”  
“Touching?”  
“Groping her naked breasts if you need to know.” Sherlock looked at him.  
“How long do I have to stay here?”  
“Another night at least, Sherlock. Mycroft will come over tomorrow. We can't go home until he will have set up security for you.”  
“Will you be staying here?” John looked at him and sat on his bed.  
“What do you think of me, Sherlock? I won't leave you alone.”  
“What about my face, John? And please be honest with me.” Now John took his hand and kissed his knuckles.  
“Honey, you will be very colourful for about a fortnight. As far as I know from your files, your x-rays and everything, there won't be any scars. Your body will hurt for several more days. Your hair will grow again and your nose will be as straight as before.”  
“My look is important. You do understand, don't you?”  
“Yes, I do. Please don't worry. You need to rest, sleep, and eat. Will you do that for me?” Sherlock sighed.  
“Yes, John. I will do whatever helps me getting home again.”  
“Very good. I will see to get you some decent food, OK?”  
“OK.” John left him and felt his eyes burning into his back. He knew he was hiding something. John didn't want to tell him about his searched flat and ruined things, probably stolen things. He needed to rest.  
John went to find Glenda to get more food. He returned and Sherlock eyed the stew.  
“Too much, John.” John started to feed him the stew.  
“Eat as much as you can but eat something.” And he ate almost everything. His eyes drooped afterwards and John carded through his hair.  
“Sleep, honey. I'll be here. You are safe here.” John left his room and the same moment Glenda approached holding a mobile up for him to take.  
“It's Mr Holmes, Dr Watson.” He took the phone.  
“Thanks, Glenda.” She turned around again and John answered the phone.  
“Yes, Mycroft?”  
“John, I've got the results. It's weird.”  
“What's weird? Tell me!” John walked into the doctor's office and sat down behind the desk.  
“They used Sherlock's own cum. They must have made him come beforehand.”  
“You know, I just had a closer look at him after he told me he felt sore. The examinations this doctor had made, well, I don't want to know. He didn't clean him afterwards, hadn't let the nurses take care of him. He was still icky with crusted cum and he was sore. There was also chafed off skin.”  
“I see.”  
“What about protection, Mycroft?”  
“Protection is on the way and should arrive any minute. He will be sitting in front of his room.”  
“I wonder if I can take him home by tomorrow, Mycroft.”  
“No problem, Baker Street is under surveillance anyway. It will be fine.”  
“I haven't told him yet about his flat. Do you have any idea if something was missing?”  
“No, it just looked destroyed as far as I could see.”  
“It will be another shock.”  
“Do you think I can come over tonight?”  
“Sure thing, Mycroft. Please do so.”  
“By the way, I had the doctor arrested. He wanted to sue you.” John chuckled.  
“Yes, well, tell him any time again. Sue him because of sexual abuse and improper treatment of his patients.”  
“John, did you hear me? I had him arrested.” It lasted a few seconds until John understood.  
“Oh, I see.”  
“Yes, we will talk to him very thorough.” John chuckled again.  
“Please do so.”  
“See you tonight, John. Perhaps I will bring Greg. He wants to see him, too.”  
“That's fine; bring Greg, too.” They hung up and John took the phone back to Glenda. He sat down with her in the nurses’ room.  
“Glenda, how many patients are here so far right now?”  
“We have ten patients right now, Dr Watson.”  
“And what do you think? Are they alright? Or do I have to check on them?” She thought for a second.  
“If you could check on two. The others I have seen.” John nodded.  
“OK, are those two patients of the former doctor?” She nodded.  
“Yes, he didn't want anybody else beside them.”  
“I see. Can you get me their files, please. I will have a look right away.” She brought him the files and John checked them through. He changed the medication and had them out of their beds to move. Both of them were agents and in the middle of a case when they suddenly became very sick.  
John checked the blood tests and everything. They had been poisoned. He talked to them and made them drink loads of water. And after the new medication they felt better rather quickly. They asked for laptops and phones and John organised everything for them.  
The doctor must have given the wrong medication on purpose, John was convinced. They weren't supposed to look any further into their cases.  
John returned to Glenda.  
“What about the nurse I found him with? Is she still here?” Glenda nodded.  
“Yes, I gave her some sleeping-pills and a bed. She still sleeps, I just checked on her.”  
“Very good, I didn't have the chance to look after her.” She put her hand on his arm.  
“No, Dr Watson, you go and look after your boy-friend. It's more important. I can take care of her.” He smiled.  
“Thank you, Glenda. I will go right away.” He even found the protection team on the aisle and in front of the door. They nodded at him and let him in. They knew him; Mycroft must have shown them photos.  
John entered the room and found Sherlock fast asleep. He sighed and shed his coat. He cleaned his hands again and carefully took his pulse. It was almost back to normal again. Sherlock twitched when he touched him.  
“Hush, love, it's me. Don't worry.” He didn't wake but stopped moving about. John let him sleep but kept sitting on the edge of the bed holding his hand until it knocked on the door and Mycroft and Greg came inside.  
Mycroft looked at Sherlock and then at John.  
“He looks a bit better as far as I can see.” John nodded.  
“Yes, he is doing fine. I can take him home tomorrow.”  
“I found a replacement doctor but I want you to talk to him tomorrow morning.”  
“Sure.” Then Sherlock woke and tried to sit up. Greg rushed to his side.  
“Hey, Sherlock. Wait. Let me lift you up.” He pushed the button and the bed moved until he could sit leaning against the upper part.  
“Thanks, Greg.” They looked at each other and smiled. Then Sherlock's eyes moved over Greg and he asked:  
“Did you bring some of my favourite?” Greg smiled.  
“Yes, I did.” John watched when Greg took a bowl out of a paper bag.  
“It's chocolate pudding. He loves it. Mycroft told me and I prepared some.” Sherlock even licked his lips. John thankfully looked at Greg when he even handed over a little spoon. He turned to Mycroft and raised his eyebrows. He only very thinly smiled and John knew there must be some results. But not here, he knew that, too.  
When Sherlock was done, he looked at them.  
“You are hiding something from me. What else has happened?” They looked at each other and finally Mycroft stepped up and sat on his bed.  
“You know, I regularly check on your place. When I noticed the break-in, I rushed over and found John and Greg already there. You weren't answering your phone and they were worried. We met there and entered your flat.” Sherlock looked at him.  
“Break-in?”  
“Well, someone was looking for something. It didn't look good. Many things are destroyed but as far as I could see nothing is missing.” Sherlock bit his lips but stopped very soon because it hurt.  
“They were probably looking for things I could have found out. Well, everything is in John's flat anyway.”  
“And Baker Street is under surveillance since you two are together.”  
“Well, probably I can be happy that I am still alive.” John took his hand.  
“Yes, you can. Please don't do something reckless like that again. We knew these people were very dangerous.”  
“I want to go home. Our new home. Please?” Mycroft was speechless when he heard that tiny voice and so was Greg but none of them commented. John just smiled and held his hand.  
“I will take you home tomorrow. I want you to stay in here for one more night, just to be sure. I will be here, too.” Sherlock nodded.  
“We need to talk.” Sherlock looked at Mycroft.  
“Yes, we do. But not now and not tomorrow. I don't want to anger Dr Watson.” Mycroft smiled.  
“But ...” Now Greg interrupted.  
“No, Sherlock. Your health is more important now. You need to rest.”  
“But Dennis ...” Sherlock sounded so sad and it almost broke John's heart.  
“Dennis is dead. You are alive.” Greg didn't say more. And it was good coming from Greg and not from Mycroft or John.  
“You all ganged up against me.” John watched the screen. His blood-pressure went up which was rather fine. He needed something to look forward to, to concentrate on.  
“We all love you.” Greg just placed the pudding in front of him on the tray and put the tea-spoon by its side.  
“Come on, Myc. Our genius needs to think.” But he smiled at Sherlock who grumpily smiled back. Mycroft pecked a kiss on his forehead and Sherlock used his finger to put some pudding on his nose.  
“Behave.” He murmured.  
“Always.” Sherlock answered. Greg and Mycroft left waving to John who stayed behind. Sherlock devoured his pudding. When he was done and licked his lips John took the bowl away and sat on the edge of his bed.  
“You could have told me, you know?” Sherlock looked at him.  
“Tell you what, John?” Sherlock had no idea what John was talking about.  
“About your favourite. I would have done it, too.”  
“You never asked, John.”  
“That's true, isn't it.” He stood and walked to the door. Sherlock looked at his back.  
“Where are you going?” He asked softly.  
“I am tired and exhausted. I need some sleep, love.”  
“Look at me, please?” Only then John turned around again.  
“I am sorry for the pain I caused you.” John returned to his side and kissed him.  
“Don't you ever run away without me, understand?” Sherlock rested his forehead against John.  
“Understood. Please don't go away now. Stay here. Please?” He trembled.  
“Let me just fresh up a bit, OK?” Sherlock nodded. John organised some clean scrubs and went through a quick bathroom routine. Then he climbed into bed beside Sherlock who fell asleep right away. John turned on his side to find a suitable position in which he didn't hurt his lover. He listened to his heartbeat and the beeping from the monitors. He fell asleep rather quickly, too.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock recovers in hospital and John takes care of everything regarding his well-being and the criminal staff.
> 
> Sherlock moves in with John after his flat has been almost destroyed.

At the end Sherlock stayed in hospital for a few days longer until he and John returned to Baker Street. John used the time to organise the hospital and its staff as well as the new doctor.  
Sherlock recovered just fine and already had some skin treatments. John allowed him a laptop for his work.  
And when they were finally back Sherlock looked just happy. He sat on the sofa and stretched out his long legs groaning.  
“This really feels so good. I am glad. And happy, so happy.” He smiled up at John.  
“I am very happy, too. Happy that you are alive and with me.” John palmed his face and his thumb moved over his cheekbone.  
“John, how bad was my flat? Is everything destroyed? What about my studio?” John sighed.  
“Your flat looked pretty bad. I haven't been into the studio. You should ask Greg.”  
“I am not sure if I can stand packing. Not now anyway. I'll ask Mycroft to arrange someone pack my clothes.”  
“I can do that.” John sounded just a bit stroppy.  
“I know you can. I just didn't mean to put this on you, too.”  
“Will you let me?” John asked.  
“Of course. I trust you. And I appreciate it.” Sherlock held out his hand and John took it sitting by his side.

***

The next day John bought several boxes and rode over to Sherlock's flat. The police had been all over the place, too, by now and hadn't made it any better. John sighed. It was better Sherlock never saw the destruction.  
So, at first, he got all his clothes. He also found the picture showing him with his best friend Dennis. The frame was broken but the picture was still fine. A bit crumpled on the edges but OK. He carefully freed it from the frame and put it in his bag. Next he went through the bath to pick up towels, robe, and such as well as his wash-bag. He checked the kitchen which was almost empty and left it be. Next he concentrated on decoration, pictures, and things like that. Most pictures had been sliced or had been written over by a thick pencil. Words like “whore” and “bitch” stuck out. John swallowed. He was so angry. But he found smaller stuff which hadn't been destroyed and packed it.  
Finally, in the deepest corner of a wooden box in his bedroom, he found a stuffed rabbit. It looked well-used and chewed on. It must have been his as a child and John took it, too.  
When he was done, he went through the whole flat again. Only then he went into the studio and it felt weird. And it really was weird because nothing whatsoever had been destroyed in here. John had a closer look and everything was just fine. They could clean out his flat and enlarge everything then. Sherlock would just be staying with him and they would renovate everything soon enough.  
He called Mycroft's men when he had gone over everything once more. They would get the boxes and deliver them to Baker Street. John would be there to prepare Sherlock. He would let him look through everything he had gotten and then watch his reaction to things missing. Only then they would get rid of the destroyed things and get the place ready to be a larger studio.  
Sherlock was resting on the sofa with his back to the room when John returned. His legs were pulled up and John knew by now it was better not to disturb him. So, he just went into the kitchen to prepare some tea. He made two mugs, just in case, and placed one on the coffee-table behind Sherlock's back. He sat in his armchair and picked up his book. After a few minutes Sherlock sat up and took his mug.  
“Are they on their way?” John nodded.  
“Yes.” Sherlock nodded, too.  
“How many?” John knew that Sherlock was able to estimate the damage done by the number of boxes he had managed to pack.  
“Seventeen.” Sherlock's fingers closed around the mug and he stared into the hot fluid.  
“Hm.” Right then the door downstairs was opened and the first steps thumped upstairs. Sherlock quickly disappeared into their bedroom and let John deal with it. John sighed but let him go.  
He thanked the men and started to unpack. Just when he folded the first shirt Sherlock dashed out throwing a cleaning-bag on the hardwood.  
“No, John. Everything has to go to the dry-cleaner. It has been touched by these, these creatures.”  
“Then hold open the bag for me, please.” Sherlock wildly stared at him but then picked it up again and held it. At the end they had several bags ready.  
“What's in the other boxes?” Sherlock quietly asked.  
“Some pictures, smaller stuff which I thought you might like to have here. I also got the picture of Dennis and you from Berlin.” He got it out of his bag and held it for Sherlock to take. He took it with shaking hands.  
“The frame was broken but we could flatten the picture.” Sherlock nodded and carried the picture into the bedroom to place it on his night-stand against the wall.  
The rabbit brought a broad smile up on his face when he found it. It went on his pillow. Suddenly Sherlock sat down.  
“John?” He looked up at him and John stopped what he was doing.  
“Yes, love?” Sherlock pointed at the place beside him.  
“Come here, please.” John sat down by his side and Sherlock took his hand.  
“I thought about everything. Us. I don't want to investigate this matter any further. I leave it to Mycroft and Greg. I don't want us to be in danger, John. I love you. I don't want to lose you. I will have my job and you will have yours. We are together.” John looked up at him and lovingly smiled.  
“But you will still help your brother sometimes?” Sherlock smiled back.  
“Yes, but maybe only the ones less horrid.”


End file.
